"  BRER   RABBIT  .  .  .  SOT   UP   AN 


Cfritum 


PLANTATION 
PAGEANTS 

% 

JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  E.  BOYD  SMITH 


McKINLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 
NEW  YORK 


49988 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 

8Y  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS  AND  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED 


"PS 

1 1*0. 

.5 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PASS 

I.  AFTER  THE  WAR 1  " 

II.  A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN     .        .  18  * 

III.  A  STRANGE  WAGONER 39* 

IV.  SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE     .  55* 
V.   A  VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT        .        .        .        .  73  » 

VI.  MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE  ....  90" 

VII.  A  TALK  ABOUT  Fox  HUNTING  ....  109* 
VIII.   OLD    SCAR-FACE,  THE    RED  Fox,  DOES  SOME 

BRAGGING 123 

IX.  BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO 138  * 

X.  HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD  UP     ....  156  * 

XI.   CAWKY,  THE  CROW 173  • 

XII.  THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COOK      .        .        .        .  191  , 

XIII.  FLIT,  THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL     ....  210  * 

XIV.  THE  DIAMOND  MINE                              .        .  228  * 


PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 


AFTER    THE    WAR. 

GENERAL  SHERMAN  had  done  the  best  he  could 
for  the  Abercrombie  place.  He  had  waved  his 
hand,  and  grim  War  shrunk  away  out  of  sight ; 
he  had  given  a  signal,  and  all  the  mules  and  horses 
and  live  stock  that  had  been  taken  away  by  the 
foragers  were  returned  in  a  jiffy ;  he  had  lifted 
his  finger,  and  a  cordon  of  soldiers  was  placed 
around  the  house  and  the  outlying  buildings. 
Everything  was  in  its  place;  so  far  as  the  eye 
could  see,  war  had  forcibly  taken  no  tolls  from 
the  plantation. 

Nevertheless,  when,  on  a  misty  morning  in  No- 
vember, the  Federal  commander  bade  the  place 
good-by,  and  pushed  his  army  southward  along 
the  Milledgeville  road,  he  left  the  plantation  in 


2  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

very  bad  shape,  so  far  as  Buster  John  and  Sweet- 
est Susan  were  concerned.  Something  was  want- 
ing —  the  place  was  n't  the  same.  The  silence 
that  fell  upon  everything,  when  the  army  clink- 
clanked  out  of  hearing,  was  something  terrible. 
The  horses  and  mules  stood  under  the  big  shed 
and  shivered  dumbly ;  and  the  cattle  huddled  to- 
gether on  the  western  side  of  the  gin-house,  for 
the  wind  was  from  the  east,  and  blowing  with  a 
penetrating  moisture  that  was  more  than  cold. 

There  was  no  gossip  among  these  animals  that 
people  think  are  dumb.  They  had  been  badly 
frightened  by  the  hurly-burly  that  beset  them; 
they  might  talk  about  it  after  a  while  when  the 
sun  shone  out,  or  when  the  grass  came;  but 
meantime  the  east  wind  was  blowing,  and  no 
matter  how  intelligent  an  animal  may  be,  he  can 
never  tell  what  that  wind  will  bring  when  it  has 
begun  to  blow.  Now  the  grass-eating  animals 
know  very  well  when  a  storm  is  coming.  The 
flesh-eaters  merely  grow  frisky  and  have  a  frolic  ; 
but  the  grass-eaters  make  for  shelter,  and  if  they 
have  a  home  to  go  to,  they  go  there;  but  the 
east  wind  —  well,  that  is  their  problem,  as  it  was 
Aaron's,  only  the  son  of  Ben  Ali  never  allowed  it 


AFTER   THE  WAR.  3 

to  blow  on  the  back  of  his  neck ;  so  that  when 
other  people  were  going  about  complaining  of 
rheumatism  or  neuralgia,  or  were  in  bed  with 
pleurisy  or  pneumonia,  the  son  of  Ben  AH  was 
usually  on  his  feet  and  in  fairly  good  health. 

Well,  on  this  remarkable  day,  the  animals  in 
the  horse-lot  and  in  the  pasture  were  quiet  and 
morose.  They  had  been  shaken  up  in  the  first 
place  with  their  strange  experiences,  having  been 
driven  helter-skelter  two  or  three  miles  from  home 
in  the  wind  and  mist,  and  helter-skelter  back 
again,  with  drums  beating  and  bugles  blowing, 
and  nobody  to  explain  it  all.  Old  June,  the 
milch  cow,  thought  she  had  lost  her  calf,  but 
after  a  while  she  felt  it  running  along  by  her 
side,  and  it  was  standing  under  her  now,  a  shiv- 
ering, shaky,  shaggy  thing  that  looked  more  like 
a  ba-ba-blaek-sheep  than  a  respectable  calf. 

Anyhow,  they  all  stood  on  the  sheltered  side  of 
the  gin-house,  and  were  very  quiet,  as  the  steam 
rose  from  their  backs  and  the  fog  issued  from 
their  nostrils.  They  were  not  in  a  playful  mood, 
and  there  was  nothing  about  them  to  interest 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan,  when  later  in 
the  day  these  young  adventurers  paid  them  a  visit 


4  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

of  inspection.  Old  June  moaned  at  them  in  a 
familiar  way,  but  that  was  all  the  welcome  they 
received. 

"  I  don't  believe  they  Ve  been  fed,"  said  Sweet- 
est Susan  with  a  sigh. 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  exclaimed  Buster  John ; 
"  Aaron  can't  do  everything." 

"  Where  are  Simon  and  Johnny  Bapter  and  the 
rest?"  the  little  girl  asked. 

Sure  enough,  where  were  they  ?  Where  were 
all  the  men  and  women,  and  the  boys  and  girls, 
who  used  to  make  the  negro  quarters  gay  with 
laughter  ?  Where  was  old  Fountain  ?  Yes,  and 
where  was  Drusilla  ?  This  was  the  kind  of  day 
when  there  should  be  a  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth 
of  every  cabin,  if  only  to  keep  out  the  dampness ; 
but  smoke  was  coming  out  of  only  one  chimney, 
and  even  that  was  not  a  free  and  friendly  smoke. 
It  was  a  thin,  wavering  ribbon  of  blue,  hardly  vis- 
ible until  the  wind  seized  it  and  tore  it  to  tatters. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  going  to  do,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan,  "  but  I  am  going  to  find  Drusilla. 
I  have  n't  seen  her  since  last  night." 

Sweetest  Susan  went  toward  the  negro  quarters, 
followed  by  Buster  John,  and  as  they  went  along 


OLD   JUNE  .  .  .  THOUGHT   SHE    HAD   LOST   HER   CALF 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  5 

they  were  even  more  and  more  impressed  with  the 
silence  that  had  fallen  over  everything.  On  all 
rainy  days,  except  this  particular  day,  so  far  as 
they  could  remember,  they  could  n't  go  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  quarters  without  hearing 
singing  and  loud  laughter,  or  the  sound  of  negroes 
scuffling  and  wrestling.  But  now  the  whole  place 
seemed  to  be  deserted.  Big  Sal's  cabin  was  the 
first  they  came  to.  The  door  was  open,  and  they 
entered.  For  a  moment  the  interior  was  so  dark 
that  they  saw  nothing,  but  presently  they  could 
see  Big  Sal  sitting  on  the  floor,  carding  out  her 
gray  hair.  Usually  she  wore  it  in  wraps,  but  they 
were  now  untwisted,  and,  as  she  carded  them  out, 
they  stood  at  right  angles  to  her  head,  and  gave 
her  a  very  wild  and  ferocious  appearance. 

She  neither  turned  nor  paused  in  the  carding 
when  the  children  stepped  somewhat  timidly  in 
the  door.  People  said  she  was  sullen ;  but  she 
was  very  sensitive  and  tender-hearted,  and  always 
famishing  for  some  one  to  love.  The  negroes 
thought  she  was  both  cruel  and  suspicious,  and 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  somewhat 
doubtful  about  her.  For  a  woman  of  sixty  years, 
who  had  known  hard  work,  and  trouble  with  it, 
she  was  well  preserved. 


6  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"Aunt  Big  Sal,"  said  Sweetest  Susan,  "  where 
is  everybody?" 

"  Gone,  honey,  de  Lord  knows  whar ;  gone, 
honey,  de  Lord  knows  how." 

She  turned  as  she  spoke,  and  her  hair  bristling 
out  gave  her  countenance  such  a  wild  aspect  that 
the  children  involuntarily  shrank  back.  They  had 
never  seen  her  with  her  hair  down  before. 

She  raised  her  hands.  "Be  afeard  er  any 
an'  ev'ybody,  honey,  but  don't  be  afeard  er  me ! 
Dodge  frum  one  an'  all,  but  don't  dodge  frum 
me.  Not  frum  me  !  No,  my  Lord  !  " 

"  Are  they  all  gone  ?  "  asked  Buster  John. 

"  Mighty  nigh  all,  honey  ;  mighty  nigh  all  un 
um.  Dem  what  went  wuz  big  fools,  an'  dem 
what  stayed  may  be  bigger  ones,  fer  all  I  know. 
I  'd  'a'  been  gone  myse'f,  but  I  went  'roun'  yander 
in  de  grave-yard,  whar  dey  put  dat  cripple  chile, 
an'  sump'in  helt  me.  I  could  n't  go  'way  an'  leave 
'im."  She  was  speaking  of  Little  Crotchett,  who 
had  been  dead  and  buried  these  many  long  years. 

u  Why  did  they  go  ?  "  inquired  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Huntin'  freedom,"  responded  Big  Sal.  "  Yes, 
Lord,  huntin'  freedom  !  I  hope  dey  '11  fin'  it;  dat 
I  does." 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  7 

"  Grandfather  says  all  the  negroes  are  free 
now/'  said  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Did  he  say  dat  ?  Did  he  say  dat  wid  his  own 
mouf  ?  Well,  I  thank  my  stars  !  I  'm  free,  den! 
Me  an'  all  de  balance  !  " 

"  So  Grandfather  says,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

"  Well,"  said  Big  Sal,  "  ef  I  'm  free,  I  better  y 
get  up  frum  here  an'  go  ter  work.     What  does 
Marster  want  us  ter  do  ?     I  'm  gwine  up  dar  an* 
ax  'im." 

The  children  went  to  the  other  cabins  and  found 
them  empty,  but  in  Jemimy's  house  they  found 
Drusilla  crying.  You  may  imagine  Sweetest  Su- 
san's grief  when  she  made  this  discovery.  Dru- 
silla was  ready  with  her  tale  of  woe. 

"  Mammy  walloped  me  kaze  I  won 't  go  off  wid 
de  balance  un  um,"  sobbed  Drusilla.  "  She  say 
ef  I  stay  here  she  got  ter  stay.  I  tell  her  I  '11  do 
anything  but  dat ;  I  '11  tell  lies,  I  '11  steal,  but  I 
won 't  go  off  frum  here  ;  dey  got  to  kill  me  dead 
an'  tote  me.  An'  den  mammy  walloped  me." 

"  You  need  n't  ter  b'lieve  a  word  er  dat ! " 
cried  Jemimy,  who  came  in  at  that  moment.  "  I 
tol'  dat  gal  it  would  be  better  for  we  all  ter  go 
ef  we  wan  ter  be  free  sho  'nuff,  an'  wid  dat  she 


8  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

fell  on  de  flo'  and  'gun  to  waller  an'  holler,  tell 
I  'bleege  to  paddle  'er.  I  don't  wanter  go  no 
wuss  'n  she  do,  but  dey  say  dat  if  we  don't  go 
'way  from  whar  we  b'long  at,  we  never  is  ter  be 
free.  Dat  what  de  niggers  on  de  nex'  plantation 
say.  I  wuz  born  here,  an'  ef  dis  ain't  my  home, 
I  dunner  whar  in  de  roun'  worl'  I  got  any." 

There  was  a  break  in  Jemimy's  voice  as  she 
said  this.  Buster  John  paid  no  attention  to  it ; 
but  Sweetest  Susan  went  close  to  her  and  leaned 
against  her,  and  the  negro  woman  put  an  arm 
around  the  child.  It  was  as  if  a  tramp  steamer 
had  thrown  out  an  anchor  within  sight  of  the 
lights  of  home. 

"  Who  cooked  breakfast  this  morning  ?  "  asked 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Me,"  replied  Jemimy.  "  I  know'd  somebody 
had  ter  cook." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  child.  "  The  biscuits 
were  mighty  good." 

It  was  some  time  before  Jemimy  said  anything. 
She  rose  and  pushed  the  child  from  her,  remark- 
ing :  "  I  dunner  what  come  over  me,  but  ef  I  set 
here  wid  my  arm  'roun'  you,  an'  you  talkin'  dat 
away,  I  '11  be  boo-hooin'  'fo'  I  know  myse'f .  Git 
up  frum  dar,  Drusilla,  'fo'  I  break  yo'  neck !  " 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  9 

Before  Drusilla  could  make  any  preparation  to 
rise,  there  came  a  loud  rap  on  the  door-facing. 

"Nobody  but  old  Fountain,"  said  the  new- 
comer ;  "  old  Fountain,  as  muddy  as  a  hog,  and 
harmless  as  a  dove." 

Harmless  or  not,  he  was  certainly  muddy.  As 
he  came  in,  the  legs  of  his  pantaloons,  rubbing  to- 
gether, sounded  as  if  they  were  made  of  leather. 
His  coat  was  full  of  red  mud,  and  mud  was  on  his 
hat  and  in  his  hair. 

"  Whar  is  you  been  ?  "  asked  Jemimy. 

"  Fur  enough  ter  go  no  furder,"  responded  old 
Fountain,  shaking  his  head.  "  I  went  a-huntin* 
freedom.  De  kin'  I  foun'  will  las'  me  a  whet ;  I 
promise  you  dat." 

"  You  don 't  tell  me  !  "  exclaimed  Jemimy. 

"  I  does,"  said  Fountain,  "  an'  I  could  tell  yo' 
lots  mo'  dan  dat  ef  I  had  time.  Dey  sot  me  ter 
work  liftin'  waggin  wheels  out  er  de  quagmire, 
an'  den  a  driver  rap- jacketed  me  wid  his  whip  — 
well,  you  see  me  here,  don't  you  ?  An'  ef  we  're 
bof e  alive,  you  '11  see  me  here  ter-inorrow  an'  de 
day  after." 

"  An'  dey  wa'n't  no  freedom  dar  ?  "  questioned 
Jemimy.  She  spoke  under  her  breath,  as  if 
afraid  to  hear  the  answer. 


10  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"I  won't  say  dat,"  replied  Fountain.  "  Fer 
dem  dat  like  de  kin',  'twuz  dar.  Some  mought 
like  de  change,  but  not  me.  I  bless  God  fer  what 
I  seed,  but  I  seed  'miff.  I  went,  an'  I  come." 

<(  Why  n't  you  stop  an'  wash  de  mud  off  in  de 
branch  ?  "  Jemimy  asked  presently. 

"  No,  not  me,"  Fountain  replied,  still  shaking 
his  head.  "  Ter  stop  wuz  ter  stay.  I  know'd  dey 
wuz  a  branch  at  home  ;  an'  mo'  dan  dat,  a  spring. 
De  idee  wuz  ter  hurry  back  an'  see  ef  de  natchel 
groun'  had  been  left !  " 

"  I  b'lieve  you !  "  sighed  Jemimy.  "  I  come 
mighty  nigh  gwine  myself." 

"  You  'd  'a'  been  sorry  !  "  exclaimed  Fountain  ; 
"  you  'd  'a'  been  sorry  plum  ter  yo'  dyin'  day. 
You  see  me?"  Jemimy  nodded  her  head. 
"  Well,  I  been  dar.  I  been  right  wid  um.  You 
can't  call  it  freedom  atter  you  wade  thoo  dat 
mud  an'  water." 

Some  one  else  came  to  the  door.  "  All  eyes 
open  !  "  cried  the  newcomer.  It  was  the  refrain 
of  hide-and-seek,  and  the  children  laughed  when 
they  heard  it.  They  knew  the  voice  of  Johnny 
Bapter.  "  All  eyes  open  !  "  he  persisted.  "  I  'm 
It.  Ten,  ten,  double-ten,  forty-five,  fifteen  !  All 
eyes  open  ?  " 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  11 

With  that  Johnny  Bapter  walked  in.  He  was 
a  thin-looking  negro,  with  a  long  face,  and  a 
mouth  that  was  always  laughing.  He  would  have 
been  very  tall,  but  he  stooped  a  trifle,  and  there 
was  a  limp  to  his  walk.  One  of  his  feet  dragged 
slightly,  but  he  was  nimble  as  a  squirrel  for  all 
that.  His  clothes  were  wet,  but  not  muddy.  He 
hit  his  wool  hat  against  the  side  of  the  chimney, 
and  it  left  its  damp  print.  He  looked  at  the  chil- 
dren and  pointed  to  the  wet  place.  "  I  tuck  its 
dagarrytype,"  he  said.  Johnny  Bapter  had  once 
lived  in  town,  and  his  adventures  there,  as  he 
made  them  out,  would  have  rilled  a  book ;  and, 
at  times,  they  were  interesting. 

"  I  hope  you-all  been  well,"  said  Johnny  Bap- 
ter ;  "  I  'm  sorter  middlin'  peart  myse'f ." 

"  Whar  you  been  ?  "  asked  Jemimy. 

"  Kinder  see-sawin'  'roun',  follerin'  de  ban's, 
an'  keepin'  off  de  boogers." 

"  You  did  n't  go  wid  urn  ?  " 

"  No  'm ;  not  me ;  I  seed  dey  had  plenty  com- 
p'ny.  Mo'  dan  dat,  I  seed  um  hit  ol'  man  Foun- 
tain dar  a  whack  er  two,  an'  I  'lowed  dat  ez  dey 
done  come  dis  fur  an'  nobody  ain't  hurt  um, 
maybe  dey  'd  git  'long  all  right.  Dey  ain't  offer 


12  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

me  no  money  fer  ter  go  'long  and  take  keer  un 
um.  I  wuz  over  dar  at  de  camps  las'  night,  an'  I 
see  niggers  fightin'  over  scraps  an'  I  hear  chillun 
cryin'  fer  bread  after  de  lights  done  put  out.  So 
wid  me,  it  wuz  Howdy,  and  good-by,  and  I  wish 
you  mighty  well.  What  mo'  can  a  nigger  do  ?  " 

"  Dat  's  so,"  sighed  Jemimy.  "  Whar  de  bal- 
ance er  our  folks  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dey  '11  come  back  in  de  due  time,"  said 
Johnny  Bapter  laughing.  "  One  '11  turn  back  at 
one  branch,  an'  one  at  anudder  ;  an'  dem  what 
don't  turn  back  at  de  branch  will  sho  turn  back 
at  de  river.  Dey  '11  all  be  home  'f o'  de  week  's 
out." 

Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  listened  to 
all  this,  but  said  nothing.  Their  minds  hardly 
sped  the  problem  with  which  the  negroes  were 
wrestling.  They  were  free,  if  they  went  away. 

rould  they  be  free  if  they  stayed?  It  was  a 
serious  matter. 

"  What  dey  gwine  do  when  dey  come  back  ?  " 
Jemimy  asked. 

"  Work,"  exclaimed  Fountain.  "  Yes,  Lord ! 
work  fruin  sun-up  ter  sun-down." 

"  An'  dey  free  too  ?  "  suggested  Jemimy.  She 
wanted  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter. 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  13 

Johnny  Bapter  laughed.  "  Why,  in  town  whar 
I  stayed,  de  free  white  folks  work  harder  dan 
niggers.  De  clerks  in  de  sto'  come  rushin'  ter 
dinner,  an'  dey  'd  fling  der  hats  on  a  cheer,  snatch 
a  mouffle  er  vittles,  an'  rush  out  wuss  'n  ef  de 
overseer  wuz  hollerin'  at  um." 

"  Is  dat  so  ?  "  replied  Jemimy. 

<e  Des  like  I  tell  you,"  said  Johnny  Bapter. 

"  I  've  looked  at  it  up  an'  down,"  remarked 
Fountain,  "  an'  it 's  dis  away  —  de  man  what  eats 
honest  bread  is  got  to  work._  Dat  what  de  Bible 
say  ;  maybe  not  in  dem  words." 

"  It  sho  is  so,"  remarked  Johnny  Bapter  laugh- 
ing. "  I  '11  work  all  day  an'  half  de  night,  but  I 
don'  wanter  hear  no  bugles  blow." 

Just  then  Big  Sal,  who  had  fixed  up  her  hair, 
and  was  quite  presentable,  having  put  on  her 
Sunday  clothes,  came  into  the  cabin  and  stood 
over  against  the  fireplace. 

"  Wuz  dey  many  er  we-all  wid  dem  ar  white 
folks?"  she  asked. 

"  Well  'um,  I  should  sesso  ! "  exclaimed  Foun- 
tain ;  "  too  many,  lots  too  many  ;  more  dan  day  '11 
find  rashuns  fur,  ef  I  ain't  mighty  much  mis- 
taken." 


14  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  What  dey  all  gwine  'long  fer  ?  "  asked  Big 
Sal. 

"  Dey  er  feared  ef  dey  stay  at  home  dey  won't 
be  free.  Now,  how  'bout  dat  ?  "  suggested  Foun- 
tain. 

"  Why,  grandfather  says  the  negroes  are  free, 
whether  they  go  or  stay,"  said  Buster  John. 
"  Grandfather  says  he  is  mighty  glad  the  black 
folks  across  the  creek  are  free." 

"  Dey  been  prayin'  fer  it  'long  'nuff,"  remarked 
Big  Sal. 

"  Wej-all  is  free  'nuff,"  said  Johnny  Bapter, 
"  but  rrhft  pyinr  trr  Jeed  us  ?  " 

"  Dat  is  so  ;  dat  is  sho  one  way  fer  ter  look  at 
it,"  exclaimed  Fountain  uneasily. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Jemimy,  "  I  know  one  thing 
an'  dat  ain't  two ;  I  'd  ruther  starve  right  here, 
whar  I  been  born  at,  dan  starve  way  off  in  de 
woods  whar  nobody  don't  know  me." 

A  shadow  darkened  the  door,  and  there  stood 
Aaron,  his  right  hand  raised. 

"  Well,  well !  What 's  all  this  ?  Everything 
to  do,  and  nobody  to  do  it !  "  He  whistled  low 
under  his  breath.  "Horses  and  mules  to  feed, 
hogs  to  call,  sheep  to  salt,  calves  to  take  away 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  15 

from  the  cows.  Well,  well !  I  hear  calls  for 
meal,  meat,  syrup." 

"  Hit 's  a  fac',"  assented  Fountain. 

"  You  hear  my  min'  workin,"  said  Johnny  Bap- 
ter.  "Make  me  a  hoss  out'n  meal,  meat  an* 
syrup,  and  I  '11  eat  'im  up  'fo'  yo'  eyes." 

He  rose,  stretched  himself,  let  one  side  of  his 
face  drop  with  affected  sorrow,  while  the  other 
side  was  laughing,  winked  at  the  children,  and 
darted  out  into  the  mist  and  rain.  Presently  the 
children  heard  him  calling,  first  the  hogs,  and 
then  the  sheep. 

Aaron  and  Fountain  followed  more  sedately, 
and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  the  horses  and 
mules  could  be  heard  tearing  the  fodder  from  the 
racks  and  munching  the  ears  of  corn.  By  dinner 
time,  according  to  Aaron's  report,  there  was  but 
one  hand  missing  from  the  place ;  and  as  he  had 
been  hired  from  the  Myrick  estate,  it  was  not 
expected  that  he  would  take  up  his  abode  on  the 
Abercrombie  plantation. 

The  fact  that  all  the  men,  women,  and  children 
came  back  after  taking  a  short  holiday  would 
have  been  somewhat  puzzling  to  the  children's 
father,  if  he  had  been  at  home ;  he  had  imbibed 


16  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

some  of  the  modern  ideas  of  business.  It  would 
cost  something  to  clothe  and  feed  them  during 
the  winter  months,  and  all  this  would  be  clear 
loss,  since  their  labor  would  not  be  profitable  until 
the  planting  season  began.  But  there  was  no 
problem  in  it  for  the  White-Haired  Master,  the 
children's  grandfather.  He  looked  forward  to  a 
period  of  chaos  and  confusion,  when  labor  would 
be  hard  to  secure.  Besides,  as  he  said,  the  ne- 
groes had  helped  to  make  the  ample  supply  of 
provisions  with  which  the  smokehouse  was  stocked, 
and  they  were  entitled  to  a  share  of  it,  especially 
if  they  were  willing  to  remain.  Moreover,  nearly 
all  were  born  at  the  place  and  knew  no  other 
home. 

And  the  plantation  seemed  to  be  very  lucky 
in  all  respects.  There  were  twenty  bales  of  cot- 
ton stored  under  the  gin-house  shed,  and  before 
Christmas  day  they  were  sold  at  an  average  of 
$250  apiece  —  cotton  was  high  directly  after  the 
war.  This  put  $5000  in  greenbacks  in  the  plan- 
tation treasury ;  and  in  that,  as  in  other  things, 
the  Abercrombie  place  was  more  fortunate  than 
any  of  the  other  plantations  for  miles  and  miles 
around. 


AFTER   THE   WAR.  17 

But  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  did  n't 
think  so.  Everybody  was  so  busy  —  even  Johnny 
Bapter,  who  used  to  laugh  and  loaf  every  chance 
he  had  —  that  the  children  were  driven  back  upon 
themselves.  They  could  talk  to  the  animals  on 
the  place,  but  that  sort  of  thing  ceases  to  be 
interesting  when  you  have  nothing  else  to  do. 
They  made  signals  to  Mrs.  Meadows,  and  waited 
patiently  about  the  spring,  hoping  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  Little  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  But  all  to 
no  purpose.  Buster  John  was  disgusted,  and 
said  so ;  but  Sweetest  Susan  had  clearer  ideas 
about  the  matter. 

"  What  can  you  expect  ?  "  she  asked.  "  If  you 
were  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  what  would  you  have 
done  when  you  saw  that  great  crowd  of  men 
and  wagons,  and  heard  the  drums  and  the  brass 
horns  ?  Why,  you  would  n't  show  your  head  in 
a  year.  And  as  for  Mrs.  Meadows,  one  of  the 
soldiers  let  his  horse  drink  from  the  spring. 
What  do  yoq  suppose  Mrs.  Meadows  thought 
when  she  saw  that  kind  of  a  shadow  staring  at 
her  through  the  water  ?  " 

"  Well,  grandfather  says  war  is  the  worst  thing 
that  ever  happened  in  the  world,"  said  Buster 
John,  "  and  I  reckon  it  is." 


n. 

A  VISIT   FROM   AUNT   MINERVY   ANIT. 

THE  cold  and  gloomy  weather  brought,  by  the 
east  wind  soon  cleared  away,  and  the  sun  shone 
out  bright  and  clear,  with  a  warm  breeze  from  the 
south,  —  a  breeze  that  brought  out  the  violets  in 
great  profusion.  Still,  the  place  was  not  the  same. 
The  negroes  ceased  their  songs,  except  Johnny 
Bapter,  and  even  he  did  n't  sing  as  loudly  or  as 
constantly  as  he  used  to  do.  And  they  ceased  to 
wrestle  and  play  at  night.  It_  seemed  that  they 
had  problems  to  consider.  They  were  not  sure 
of  their  position  ;  they  had  nobody  to  advise  them. 
They  might  have  asked  advice  on  the  subject,  but 
freedom  appeared  to  add  to  their  shyness,  and 
they  retrained  from  asking  for  any  information 
or  advice.  Just  why  this  should  be  so,  nobody 
has  ever  discovered  to  this  day.  Some  of  the  less 
fortunate  found  strangers  to  advise  with  them 
and  to  make  them  promises  that  were  never  to  be 


A  VISIT  FROM  A  UNT  MINER  VY  ANN.         19 

redeemed  ;  but  on  the  Abercrombie  place  the  ne- 
groes worked  in  the  dark,  as  the  saying  is,  except 
for  such  counsel  as  the  strong  common  sense  of 
Aaron  was  able  to  give  them.  They  had  the  idea 
that,  having  been  made  the  object  of  what  seemed 
to  be  a  special  interposition  of  Providence,  they 
were  to  be  sustained  and  maintained  in  the  same 


This  accounted  for  the  fact  that  the  negroes 
on  most  of  the  plantations  left  home  and  flocked 
to  the  towns  and  cities,  where  they  became  the 
charge  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  an  institution 
that  did  a  great  deal  of  good,  as  well  as  a  great 
deal  of  harm  :  a  great  deal  of  good,  because  in 
many  cases  it  pre  vented  _actual_staryation_;  and  a 
great  deal  of  harm,  because  it  left  the  impression 
on  the  minds  of  the  negroes  that  they  were  to  be 
supported  by  the  government  whether  they  worked 
or  not. 

But  the  youngsters  who  read  will  say,  "  What 
of  that  ?  "  and  cry,  "  Get  along  with  your  pokey 
old  story,  if  you  have  any  to  tell  !  "  And  it  is 
good  advice,  too^  but_whe_ii  you.  are  writing  about 
a  certain  period,  you  want  to  have  something  more 
thaiLthe  local  colorTyou  want  to  get  at  the  tern* 


20  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

per^the  attitude,  the  disposition  of  the  people  you 
are  writing  about ;  so  that  when  the  youngsters 
of  to-day  get  a  little  older  they  will  be  able  to  say, 
"  There 's  a  great  deal  of  foolishness  in  that  old 
book,  and  some  history,  too,"  as  if  their  young- 
sters will  care  any  more  for  history  than  they  did. 

Well,  anyhow,  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  and 
the  air  was  warm.  The  tools  and  instruments  of 
war  were  following  the  courses  of  the  streams  that 
plough  seaward,  and  nature  on  the  Abercrombie 
place  had  forgotten  all  about  them.  But,  let  the 
sun  shine  ever  so  brightly,  the  children  failed  to 
find  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  and  no  message  came  from 
Mrs.  Meadows.  They  were  patient  enough,  too. 
Every  day,  sometimes  in  the  morning  and  some- 
times in  the  afternoon,  they  wandered  down  to 
the  spring  and  sat  on  a  dry  Bermuda  embank- 
ment, where  they  could  watch  developments. 

It  was  noticed  that  Drusilla  never  joined  in  the 
regrets  that  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  ex- 
pressed, when  day  after  day  passed  and  no  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  came. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  care  whether  he  comes  or 
not,"  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 

Drusilla  shook  her  head.     "  I  'd  keer  mightily 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.          21 

ef  he  did  come,"  she  said  frankly.  "  I  done  been 
down  dar  long  wid  'im  once,  and  goodness  knows 
I  don't  wanter  resk  it  no  mo'.  Hit  seem  lak  a 
skeery  dream  den,  an'  I  don't  want  no  sech  dream 
ter  come  ter  me  no  mo'.  When  folks  git  so  dat 
water  won't  wet  um,  dey  better  be  gwine  off  ter 
some  yuther  country." 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  asked  Buster 
John  brusquely. 

"  You  better  ax  what  de  matter  wid  you-all," 
exclaimed  Drusilla.  "  Dey  ain't  nothin'  't  all  de 
matter  wid  me.  But  I  '11  say  dis,  when  you-all 
see  dat  ar  Mr.  Fimblethinger  —  ever  what  his 
name  is  —  you  won't  see  me.  Dat 's  what !  I  '11 
set  here  wid  you  twel  he  pop  outen  de  water,  and 
den  I  '11  pop  'way  f um  here.  Ef  I  'm  free,  dat 's 
whar  my  freedom  will  shine  out." 

"  Well,  you  went  once,"  remonstrated  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Dat  kinder  doin's  is  like  chills  an'  fever  ;  you 
may  have  um  once,  but  you  don't  want  um 
twice." 

"  She  '11  go,"  said  Buster  John. 

Drusilla  laughed.  "  I  sholy  will  —  Vay  fum 
here.  I  don't  see  what  you-all  wanter  fool  wid 


22  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

dat  kinder  doin's  fer.  I  'd  lots  druther  see  you- 
all  jabberin'  wid  de  jay-birds.  Dat 's  bad  nufi% 
but  it 's  better  'n  reskin'  yo'  life  down  und'  dat 
spring.  Kaze  wben  you  go  down  dar,  dey  ain't 
no  tellin'  ef  you  gwine  ter  come  back  'live.  En 
spozen  't  wuz  ter  cave  in  on  you  —  yo'  pa,  and 
yo'  ma,  and  yo'  grandpa  would  be  gwine  'roun' 
here  plum  'stracted,  an'  dey  never  would  see  hair 
ner  hide  er  you  while  de  worl'  stan's.  Uh-uh  !  I 
been  down  dar  once,  and  dat  uz  twice  too  many. 
Dat  ar  Mr.  Fimblefinger  kin  pop  up  and  pop 
down,  but  I  ain't  gwine  ter  pop  wid  'im,  not 
less  'n  I  take  leave  er  my  senses." 

The  children  could  n't  help  but  laugh  at  Dru- 
silla's  earnestness,  and  they  laughed  with  a  better 
heart  because  they  knew  that  if  they  should  have 
another  opportunity  to  visit  the  country  next  door 
to  the  world,  Drusilla  would  not  allow  them  to  go 
alone.  But  the  opportunity  never  came,  and  they 
not  only  ceased  to  expect  it,  but  presently  fell  in 
with  other  adventures  that  were  quite  as  curious 
and  as  interesting,  all  of  which  are  to  be  chroni- 
cled, however  clumsily,  in  the  pages  to  follow. 

Meanwhile,  one  afternoon  when  the  sun  was 
preparing  to  go  to  bed,  and  when  the  children 


A  VISIT  FROM  A  UNT  MINER  VY  ANN.          23 

were  still  expecting  little  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  they 
heard  a  voice  calling  from  the  big  road,  which  was 
not  far  away  from  the  spring  :  — 

"  Heyo  dar,  folks  !  Will  yo'  dogs  bite  ?  "  The 
voice  was  that  of  a  negro  woman.  She  was  driv- 
ing a  small  steer  to  a  wagon,  but  had  left  the  ve- 
hicle on  the  side  of  the  road  and  had  come  over 
the  stile.  She  was  tall,  and  appeared  to  be  about 
forty  years  old.  She  had  a  countenance  that 
could  smile,  but  its  aspect  was  now  serious,  and 
her  eye  was  bright  and  keen. 

"  You-all  oughter  know  me  !  "  she  cried,  as  she 
came  up.  "  Dat  is,  ef  eve'ything  ain't  been  run 
outen  yo'  heads  by  de  war-bosses  and  de  war- 
whoopers." 

"I  know  you!"  cried  Sweetest  Susan;  "it's 
Aunt  Minervy  Ann  Perdue." 

"De  same,"  assented  Aunt  Minervy  Ann. 
"An*  not  de  same  nuther.  Kaze,  I  teU  you, 
honies,  dey  's  a  mighty  change  whar  I  live  at. 
You  ain't  seen  Mars  Tumlin  Perdue  go  'long  by 
de  road,  is  you  ?  Well,  it 's  jest  like  'im  ter  be 
stoppin'  some'rs  on  de  road  talkin'  politics.  I 
b'lieve  dat  man  ud  stop  on  de  road  and  talk  poli- 
tics ef  he  knowed  eve'y  niinit  wuz  ter  be  de  nex'. 


24  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

I  hear  tell,"  Aunt  Minervy  went  on,  "  dat  de  Yan- 
kees sweep  over  you-all's  place  an'  never  tuck  off 
a  blessed  thing." 

The  children  confirmed  this  by  saying  that  the 
troops  not  only  had  not  carried  anything  off,  but 
had  driven  two  mules  into  the  lot  that  didn't 
belong  there.  "  It  would  be  funny,"  Buster  John 
said,  "  if  the  two  mules  should  turn  out  to  belong 
to  Major  Perdue."  Anyhow,  some  of  the  negroes 
had  said  the  mules  belonged  to  the  major. 

"  You  see  dat  HI  steer  out  dar,"  exclaimed  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann,  "  'tain't  much  more  dan  a  yearlin' ; 
well,  dat  ar  steer  is  de  onliest  four-footed  creetur 
dat  dey  lef '  at  Perdue's  ;  an'  dey  would  n't  'a'  lef ' 
him  ef  I  had  n't  a  driv'  'im  in  my  house  an'  kep* 
'im  in  dar  whiles  dem  people  wuz  rumagin'  'roun' 
an'  trompin'  by.  Dey  shot  de  chickens  yit,  an' 
de  turkeys,  an'  even  down  ter  de  goslin's ;  an* 
dey  fair  stripped  de  smoke-'ouse  an'  de  sto'-room." 

"  That 's  mighty  funny,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

"  It  may  seem  like  hit 's  funny  to  you-all,  honey," 
said  Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  "  but  'tain't  funny  up 
dar  whar  we-all  live  at.  Dey  would  n't  'a'  done  so 
bad  ef  it  had  n't  'a'  been  fer  Mars  Tumlin.  He 
went  out,  he  did,  time  dey  come  in  de  yard,  an* 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.         25 

he  cuss'd  um  an'  sass'd  um  des  ez  long  ez  dey  wuz 
a'er  one  un  um  in  sight.  I  tried  to  make  signs 
fer  ter  make  'im  hush,  but,  shoo  !  his  dander  wuz 
up,  and  you  des  ez  well  make  signs  at  a  gate-post. 
He  say  he  gwine  ter  move  ter  town  ;  an'  when  I 
ax  'im  what  we  gwine  live  on,  he  'low  dat  we  can 
starve  lots  better  in  town  dan  we  kin  in  de  coun- 
try ;  an'  I  spec'  dat 's  so,  kaze  we  won't  be  so 
lonesome.  Dey  ain't  a  livin'  soul  on  dat  place 
but  me  and  Mars  Tumlin,  an'  yo'  cousin  Vallie 
an'  Hamp.  All  de  niggers  done  gone,  kaze  when 
dey  come  an'  ax  Mars  Tumlin  what  dey  mus'  do, 
he  bein'  mad,  lowed  dey  could  all  go  to  de  oF 
Boy,  and  be  janged.  He  say  he  comin'  over  here 
fer  ter  borry  sump'n  ter  eat ;  and  he  better  be 
comin',  too,  fer  de  day  '11  be  gone  fo'  you  know 
it." 

"  Yonder  he  is  now,"  said  Sweetest  Susan.  The 
children  were  well  acquainted  with  Major  Perdue. 
He  was  not  only  kin  to  them  in  some  remote 
way,  but  he  was  very  jolly  company  when  in  the 
humor  —  and  this  was  pretty  much  all  the  time  ; 
for  although  the  major  had  a  temper  which  he 
took  small  pains  to  control,  it  was  only  on  rare 
occasions  that  he  displayed  it.  He  was  in  a  fine 


26  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

humor  now,  for  he  came  forward  laughing  and 
gave  the  children  each  a  hearty  smack. 

"  Minervy  Ann,"  said  the  major,  "  I  thought  I 
told  you  to  curry  that  horse  and  plait  his  mane 
before  you  hitched  him  to  the  huggy." 

"  You  did  tell  me  dat,"  replied  Minervy  Ann  ; 
"  an'  I  tol*  you  dat  ef  you  'd  get  some  hot  water 
an'  soap,  an'  wash  de  horn  off  his  haid,  I  'd  plait 
bofe  mane  an'  tail." 

"I  clean  forgot  it,"  the  major  declared. 
"  Well,  you  stay  here  and  talk  to  these  chaps,  and 
I  '11  call  on  Cousin  Abercrombie  and  see  if  I  can't 
beg  or  borrow  a  few  rations.  When  I  want  you 
I  '11  call  you,  and  then  you  can  drive  your  car- 
riage in  at  the  side  gate  there." 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  looked  after  the  major  and 
laughed.  "  I  hope  ter  goodness,"  she  said,  as  she 
sat  down  by  the  children  —  "I  hope  ter  good- 
ness dat  he  won't  say  he  want  de  vittles  cooked. 
Kaze  ef  he  done  dat,  it  'd  put  me  in  min'  er  dat 
ol'  tale  my  mammy  useter  tell  me." 

"What  tale  was  that?"  Sweetest  Susan  asked. 

"  Oh  !  you-all  done  hear  tell  un  it  mo'  times 
dan  your  been  ter  chu'ch.  You  ain't  never  had 
ol'  Remus  to  tell  it ;  but  dar  is  dat  ol'  A'on,  an* 


A  VISIT  FROM  A  UNT  MINER  VY  Al\i\ .          27 

ol'  Fountain,  an'  Big  Sal  —  what  dey  been  doin* 
all  dis  time  ef  dey  ain't  never  tol'  you  dat  tale  ? 
Ef  dey  ain't  got  sense  'nuff  fer  ter  tell  you  all  de 
tales  dey  is  gwine,  you  better  sic  de  dogs  on  um 
an'  run  um  off  de  place  —  ef  you  got  any  dogs 
lef." 

"  Well,  they  don't  tell  us  any  tales,"  said  Bus- 
ter John  truly  enough.  "  Old  Aunt  Free  Polly 
used  to  tell  us  some  ;  but  that 's  been  so  long  ago 
that  we've  forgotten  them.  You  ought  not  to 
have  said  anything  about  a  tale  if  you  didn't 
want  to  tell  it." 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  looked  at  the  child  and 
laughed.  "  Heyo,  here !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Ef 
dey 's  gwine  ter  be  any  swellin'  up  an'  gittin'  mad, 
I  '11  tell  de  tale,  and  git  'way  f um  here  des  quick 
ez  I  kin.  I  ain't  come  ter  dis  place  fer  ter  git  in 
no  fuss." 

The  children  composed  themselves  comfortably 
on  the  dead  grass,  and  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  told 
the  story  of 

BRER  RABBIT  AND  THE  GOOBERS. 

"  Way  back  yander,"  said  Aunt  Minervy  Ann, 
retying  her  head  handkerchief,  "  de  times  wid  de 


28  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

creeturs  wuz  mighty  much  like  dey  is  wid  folks 
now,  speshually  we-all  up  dar  at  de  Perdue  plan- 
tation. Dey  wuz  hard  times.  I  disremember 
whedder  dey  had  been  a  war  and  de  army  swep' 
'long,  or  whedder  dey  wuz  a  dry  drouth.  Dey 
ain't  much  diffunce  when  craps  fail. 

"Well,  anyhow,  de  times  wuz  mighty  hard. 
Vittles  wuz  skacer  dan  hen's  tushes,  an'  dem  what 
had  it,  hid  it.  An'  ef  dey  ain't  hide  it,  dey 
stayed  mighty  close  by  it.  01'  Brer  Rabbit  wuz 
in  jest  ez  bad  fix  ez  any  un  um,  ef  not  wuss. 
Slick  ez  he  wuz,  he  wa'n't  slick  miff  fer  ter  git 
sump'n  ter  eat  whar  dey  wa'n't  none.  De  calamus 
patch  gun  out,  all  de  saplin's  had  been  barked 
higher  up  dan  Brer  Rabbit  kin  reach,  de  tater 
patches  wuz  empty,  an'  de  pea  vines  wuz  dry  nuff 
fer  ter  ketch  fire  widout  any  he'p. 

"  So  dar  'twuz.  Like  de  common  run  er  po' 
white  folks,  Brer  Rabbit  had  a  big  fam'ly.  De 
young  uns  wuz  constant  a-cryin' '  Daddy !  Daddy ! 
fetch  me  sump'n  ter  eat ! '  An'  ol'  Mis'  Rabbit  wuz 
dribblin'  at  de  mouf,  she  wuz  dat  hongry. 

"  01'  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  so  mad  kaze  he  can't  git 
no  vittles  nowhar  and  nohow,  dat  he  kicked  a  cheer 
'cross  de  room  wid  his  hin'  foot  and  skeered  de 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.         29 

young  uns  so  dat  dey  flipped  under  de  bed,  an* 
dar  dey  stayed  twel  der  daddy  wuz  out  er  sight 
an'  hearin'. 

"  Brer  Rabbit  knowed  mighty  well  dat  'twa'n't 
gwine  ter  do  fer  him  ter  be  settin'  roun'  de  house 
wid  de  fambly  dat  hongry  dat  dey  can't  skacely 
stan'  'lone.  So  he  comb  his  hair,  an'  brush  his 
hat,  an'  put  on  his  mits  fer  ter  keep  de  sun  fum 
frecklin'  his  hau's,  an'  tuck  down  his  walkin'  cane, 
an'  put  out  down  de  road  fer  ter  see  what  he  kin 
see,  an'  hear  what  he  kin  hear." 

At  this  point  the  children  laughed,  Sweetest 
Susan  convulsively,  and  Buster  John  more  se- 
dately, yet  heartily.  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  paused 
and  regarded  them  with  grave,  inquiring  eyes. 

"  What  de  matter  now  ?  "  she  asked  solemnly. 
At  this  the  children  laughed  louder  than  ever. 
"  Well !  "  she  cried,  "  ef  you  gwine  ter  have  con- 
niption fits,  I  '11  wait  twel  dey  pass  off." 

"  Why,  I  was  laughing  because  you  said  Brother 
Rabbit  put  on  his  mits  to  keep  his  hands  from 
freckling,"  explained  Buster  John  ;  and  Sweetest 
Susan,  when  she  could  catch  her  breath,  declared 
that  she  was  laughing  for  the  same  reason. 

"  You-all  must  be  mighty  ticklish,"  remarked 


30  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  plucking  at  the  dead  grass. 
"  I  ain't  see  nothin'  funny  in  dat.  You  nee'  n't 
think  dat  rabbits  is  like  dey  uster  be.  Dey  done 
had  der  day.  In  dem  times  dey  growed  big  and 
had  lots  er  sense,  an'  dey  wuz  mighty  keerf  ul  wid 
deyself .  But  dey  done  had  der  day.  Folks  come 
'long  and  tuck  der  place,  an'  since  den  dey  done 
dwindle  'way  twel  dey  ain't  nothin'  mo'  dan 
runts,  an'  skacely  dat.  Folks  holdin'  de  groun' 
now,  but  how  long  dey  gwine  ter  hoi'  it  ?  How 
V  long  f o'  sump'n  else  '11  come  'long  an'  take  folks' 
place?  De  time  may  be  short,  er  it  may  be  long, 
but  it  '11  come  —  you  min'  what  I  tell  you ;  an* 
when  it  do  come,  folks '11  dwindle  'way  and  git 
ter  be  runts  des  like  de  creeturs  did,  and  dey  '11 
fergit  how  to  talk  so  eve'ybody  kin  know  what 
dey  say  in'. 

"  Look  at  de  creeturs !  Why,  de  time  wuz 
when  dey  could  talk  same  ez  folks,  but  now  dey 
can't  hardly  jabber,  and  dey  ain't  nobody  know 
what  dey  sayin'  'cept  't  is  dish  yer  A'on  you  got 
here"  —  the  children  looked  at  each  other  and 
smiled  —  "  an'  dat  don't  do  him  ner  dem  no  good. 
Now  des  ez  de  creeturs  is,  de  folks  '11  be  when  de 
time  come  —  you  mark  my  word ! " 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.         31 

"But  all  this  time,"  remarked  Buster  John 
slyly,  "  the  rabbits  in  the  tale  are  suffering  might- 
ily for  something  to  eat." 

"  Dat  's  so,  honey  !  I  got  so  much  on  my  min' 
dat  I  done  clean  fergit  'bout  de  tale.  I  wuz 
thinkin'  'bout  de  time  when  we-all,  white  and 
black,  would  be  brung  low.  You  '11  Have  to 
scuzen  me,  sho.  Well,  den,  OF  Brer  Rabbit  put 
on  his  mits  and  tuck  down  his  walkin'  cane,  and 
went  promenadin'  down  de  big  road.  Ef  he  met 
anybody,  dey  never  could  gess  dat  he  wuz  mighty 
nigh  famished,  kaze  he  walk  des  es  biggity  es  ef 
he  des  had  de  finest  kinder  dinner.  He  went  on, 
smoothin'  down  his  mustashes,  when  who  should 
he  meet  but  Brer  Fox,  wid  a  big  basket  on  his 
arm. 

"  '  Whar  you  been,  Brer  Fox?  * 

" i  Loungin'  roun'.  Whar  you  gwine,  Brer 
Babbit?' 

" '  Up  hill  and  down  dale.  What  you  got  in 
yo'  basket,  Brer  Fox?' 

" '  Des  er  hatful  er  goobers,  Brer  Rabbit.' 

"  <  Parched,  Brer  Fox  ? ' 

" '  Yes,  indeedy,  Brer  Rabbit ;  parched  good 
en  brown.' 


32  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

" '  No,  I  thank  you,  Brer  Fox ;  none  fer  me. 
Ef  dey  wuz  fresh  an'  raw  now,  maybe  I  'd  take 
some.  But  parched  —  my  stomach  won't  stan* 
um.  Mo'  dan  dat,  I  des  had  a  bait  er  groun'- 
squir'l.' 

"Now,  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  hankerin'  atter  de 
goobers  so  bad  dat  he  can't  stan'  still,  an'  when 
he  say  groun'-squir'l,  Brer  Fox  under-jaw  drap 
an'  'gun  ter  trimble  an'  quiver.  He  say  :  — 

"  '  Wuz  he  fat,  Brer  Rabbit  ? ' 

"  l  Fat  ez  a  butter-ball,  Brer  Fox,  but  not  too 
fat ;  dey  wuz  plenty  er  lean  meat.' 

"  <  My  gracious,  Brer  Rabbit !  Whar  'd  you 
git  'im?' 

"  '  Back  up  de  road  a  piece,  Brer  Fox.  A 
whole  fambly  un  um  stays  dar.' 

" ( Show  me  de  place,  Brer  Rabbit ;  my  ol' 
'oman  been  hankerin'  atter  groun'-squir'l  fer  de 
longest.' 

"  '  I  '11  show  you,  Brer  Fox ;  but  yo'  claws 
longer  'n  mine,  an*  you  '11  hatter  do  de  grab- 
blin'.' 

"Brer  Fox  jaw  shuck  like  he  had  a  swamp 
chill.  He  'low  :  '  You  never  is  see  nobody  grab- 
ble, Brer  Rabbit,  twel  you  see  me/ 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.         33 

"  'I '11  stan'  by,  Brer  Fox,  an'  see  it  well  done.' 

"  Now,  Brer  Rabbit  did  know  whar  dey  wuz  a 
burrow  er  some  kin',  but  he  ain't  know  whedder 
it  wuz  a  groun'-squir'l,  er  a  wood-rat,  er  a  high- 
Ian'  moccasin.  So  he  tuck  Brer  Fox  up  de  big 
road  a  piece,  and  den  dey  struck  out  thoo  de 
woods.  But  'fo'  dey  start  in  de  timber,  Brer 
Rabbit  'low :  — 

"  '  You  better  hide  yo'  basket  er  goobers,  Brer 
Fox,  kaze  it  '11  bother  you  ter  tote  it  thoo  de 
bushes.  I'll  watch  you  grabble,  and  I'll  keep 
my  eye  on  de  basket.' 

"  So  said,  so  done.  Brer  Fox  sot  de  basket 
down  in  de  bushes,  an'  dey  kivered  it  wid  leaves 
and  trash,  and  went  on.  Bimeby,  dey  got  ter 
de  place  whar  Brer  Rabbit  say  de  fambly  er  de 
groun'-squir'l  live,  an'  he  show  Brer  Fox  de  mouf 
er  de  burrow.  Brer  Fox  'low  :  — 

"  '  It  '11  be  hard  diggin',  Brer  Rabbit.' 

" '  De  harder  de  diggin',  Brer  Fox,  de  bigger 
de  crap.  Dat  's  what  I  hear  um  say.' 

"  Wid  dat,  Brer  Fox  shucked  his  coat,  an'  roll 
up  his  shirt-sleeves,  an'  start  ter  diggin'.  He 
made  de  dirt  fly.  Atter  while  he  stop  ter  rest  and 
'low:  — 


34  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

" '  Keep  yo'  eye  on  my  goobers,  Brer  Rabbit ; 
don't  let  nobody  run  off  wid  um ; '  and  den  he 
sot  in  ter  grabblin  agin. 

"'I'll  watch  um,  Brer  Fox;  don't  make  no 
doubt  er  dat.' 

"  Den  Brer  Rabbit  run  to  whar  de  basket  wuz, 
flung  de  trash  off  'n  it,  tuck  it  off  in  de  woods  a 
little  piece,  an'  emptied  all  de  goobers  out  'n  it. 
Den  he  fill  it  up  wid  sticks  and  chips,  mos'  ter  de 
top,  and  on  de  trash  he  put  a  layer  er  goobers. 
Den  he  tuck  it  back  and  kivered  it  like  twuz  at 
fust,  and  went  ter  whar  Brer  Fox  was  grabblin'. 
Brer  Fox  'low :  — 

" i  You  smell  mighty  strong  er  parched  goo- 
bers, Brer  Rabbit.' 

"  '  I  don't  doubt  dat,  Brer  Fox ;  I  lifted  de  lid 
er  de  basket,  f  er  ter  see  ef  dey  wuz  all  dar,  an'  de 
stench  fum  um  come  mighty  nigh  knockin'  me 
down.  Fer  a  minnit  or  mo'  I  wuz  dat  weak  and 
sick  I  come  mighty  nigh  gwine  home/ 

"  Well,  Brer  Fox  he  grabble  and  grabble,  twel 
he  git  tired  er  grabblin',  and  den  he  'low  dat  he 
b'lieve  he  '11  put  off  eatin'  any  groun'-squir'l  twel 
some  yuther  day.  Brer  Rabbit  say  he  kin  do  ez 
he  please  'bout  dat ;  an'  den  dey  went  on  back  ter 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINERVY  ANN.         35 

whar  dey  lef  de  basket.  Brer  Rabbit  helt  his 
nose  an'  lifted  de  lid  an'  looked  in,  an'  'low :  — 

" '  Dey  all  dar,  Brer  Fox ;  you  kin  look  for 
yo'self.' 

" '  I  don't  'spute  it,  Brer  Rabbit ;  I  ain't  say 
dey  ain't  all  dar.' 

"  '  Dat  may  be,  Brer  Fox,  but  I  hear  folks  say 
you  mighty  'spicious,  an'  I  don't  want  nobody  fer 
ter  be  'spicionin'  er  me.' 

"  Brer  Fox  'low  :  '  Don't  kick  f o'  you  er  spurred, 
Brer  Rabbit.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say,  '  De  right  kinder  horse  don't 
need  no  spurrin',  Brer  Fox.' 

"  Well,  Brer  Fox  picked  up  his  basket  an'  went 
on  home,  an'  Brer  Rabbit  he  went  de  yuther  way ; 
but  by  de  time  Brer  Fox  git  out  er  sight  good,  ol' 
Brer  Rabbit  run  home,  an'  git  a  basket,  an'  run 
back  ter  whar  he  done  hid  de  goobers,  and  'twa'n't 
no  time  fo'  he  had  um  all  at  home,  an'  him  an' 
his  ol'  'oman  an'  de  chillun  had  a  reg'lar  feastin' 
time. 

"  When  Brer  Fox  foun'  dat  he  had  mo'  trash 
dan  goobers  in  his  basket,  he  was  dat  mad  dat 
he  could  'a'  bit  hisse'f ;  but  he  ain't  let  on.  He 
know  dey  ain't  no  use  makin'  no  fuss,  an'  he 


36  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

know  mighty  well  dat  he  can't  ketch  Brer  Rab- 
bit ;  he  done  tried  dat  bef  o'. 

"So  dis  time  he  went  ter  law  'bout  it.  He 
laid  de  case  'fo'  'ol  Judge  Wolf,  an'  dey  got  out 
papers,  an'  sont  atter  Brer  Rabbit.  Well,  dey 
want  no  gittin'  'roun'  dat.  Brer  Rabbit  had  ter 
go;  he  wuz  mighty  skittish,  but  he  knowed  dat 
ef  dey  got  de  law  on  'im  he  won't  have  no  peace 
in  dat  settlement.  So  he  went  ter  court,  and  dar 
he  foun'  a  whole  passel  er  de  creeturs.  When  he 
got  in,  ol'  Judge  Wolf  tuck  his  seat  on  de  high 
flatfonn,  an'  put  on  his  specs,  an'  started  ter 
readin'  in  a  great  big  book.  Dey  called  de  case, 
and  Brer  Fox  tuck  de  stan'  an'  tol'  his  side ;  and 
den  Brer  Rabbit  got  up  an'  tol'  his  side.  Judge 
Wolf  tuck  off  his  specs  an'  look  at  Brer  Rabbit 
wid  a  broad  grin.  Den  he  ax  Brer  Fox  how 
many  goobers  he  had,  and  Brer  Fox  say  he  dunno 
how  many,  but  dey  must  'a'  been  a  bushel.  Judge 
Wolf  ax  'im  whar'bouts  he  got  um.  He  say  he 
got  um  frum  a  man  on  de  river. 

"  Judge  Wolf  'low,  ( A  man  on  de  river ! 
Well,  ef  dat  de  case  you  must  'a'  had  some  sho 
'nuff.'  Den  he  turn  ter  Brer  Rabbit  an'  'low : 
*  Brer  Rabbit,  you  '11  hatter  pay  'im  his  goobers 


A  VISIT  FROM  AUNT  MINER VY  ANN.          37 

back  when  you  dig  yo'  crap.'  Brer  Rabbit  say 
he  '11  do  de  best  he  kin. 

"  Judge  Wolf  say,  *  How  '11  you  have  urn,  Brer 
Pox ;  raw  er  parched  ?  ' 

"  Brer  Fox  holler  out,  '  Parched,  parched  ! ' 

"  Judge  Wolf  'low,  <  Brer  Rabbit,  when  you 
dig  yo'  crap,  save  all  de  parched  goobers  fer  Brer 
Fox/ 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say  he  '11  be  mo'  dan  glad  ter  do 
so,  an'  den  dey  'journed  de  court-house." 

"That's  what  I  call  stealing,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan  emphatically,  as  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  paused. 

There  was  silence  for  awhile,  and  then  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  shook  her  head  and  said  :  "  Ef  folks 
had  'a'  done  dat  away  't  would  'a'  been  stealin',  but 
de  creeturs  —  dey  got  ways  er  dey  own,  honey. 
Dey  dunno  right  fum  wrong,  an'  ef  dey  did, 
't  would  be  mighty  bad  for  we-all.  Our  own 
bosses  'ud  kick  us,  and  our  own  cows  'ud  hook  us, 
forty  times  a  day.  Dey  would  n't  be  no  gittin* 
'long  wid  um  de  way  dey  er  treated." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  Buster  John. 

Just  then  Major  Perdue  came  out  on  the  back 
porch  of  the  big  house  and  called  Aunt  Minervy 

49988 


38  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Ann.  It  turned  out  that  the  two  extra  mules  in 
the  lot  did  belong  to  the  major.  He  borrowed 
some  harness  and  a  wagon,  and  drove  home  with 
plenty  of  provisions,  and  with  a  comfortable  sum 
of  money  which  the  children's  grandfather  had 
loaned  him.  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  carried  her  cart 
back  empty,  but  she  did  n't  mind  that.  The  chil- 
dren rode  with  her  a  little  piece,  and  as  a  result 
had  a  very  peculiar  experience. 


m. 

A   STRANGE   WAGONER. 

MAJOR  PERDUE  lived  in  the  direction  of  the 
village,  a  few  miles  away,  and  when  Buster  John 
and  Sweetest  Susan  clambered  on  Aunt  Minervy 
Ann's  ox  cart,  they  shouted  to  their  grandfather, 
the  White-Haired  Master,  that  they  were  going  to 
town  and  did  n't  know  when  they  would  return. 
But  as  it  happened,  they  were  to  return  very  soon, 
for  they  had  gone  only  a  short  distance  before 
they  met  a  covered  wagon,  drawn  by  two  large 
fat  mules.  The  driver  was  a  white  man,  with  a 
very  red  face  and  eyes  as  small  and  as  restless  as 
a  mink's.  He  had  sandy  hair,  mixed  with  gray, 
and  he  wore  a  faded  gray  uniform.  When  he 
saw  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  and  the  children  he  be- 
gan to  sing,  but,  in  spite  of  the  singing,  which 
grew  louder  as  he  came  nearer,  Buster  John  and 
Sweetest  Susan  thought  they  heard  a  child  crying 
and  sobbing  when  the  two  vehicles  passed  each 


40  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

other.  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  was  sure  she  heard  it, 
and  she  declared  that  there  was  something  wrong 
about  the  man  ;  she  could  tell  by  his  peculiar 
appearance. 

So  she  advised  the  children  to  jump  down  and 
follow  the  wagon  as  far  as  their  gate  if  no  farther. 
They  might  find  out  something  and  be  able  to  do 
somebody  a  good  turn.  Sweetest  Susan  didn't 
see  the  necessity  of  this,  but  Buster  John  was 
keen  for  anything  that  seemed  to  promise  an  ad- 
venture. He  jumped  from  the  cart  and  ran  back 
after  the  wagon,  while  Sweetest  Susan  followed 
more  leisurely.  She  followed  fast  enough,  how- 
ever, to  catch  up  with  the  covered  wagon,  which 
was  not  going  very  rapidly.  The  wagon  was  the 
kind  used  by  the  North  Carolina  tobacco  pedlers. 
The  cover  was  higher  at  the  ends  than  in  the  mid- 
dle. The  pole  stuck  out  behind,  and  a  water 
bucket  was  fastened  to  it.  A  trough  for  feeding 
the  mules  was  swinging  across  the  rear,  and  this 
with  the  jutting  pole  enabled  Buster  John  to 
climb  up  and  peer  into  the  wagon.  At  first  he 
saw  nothing  but  a  lot  of  bedclothes  piled  up  on 
some  bundles  of  fodder ;  but  presently  he  heard 
sobbing  again,  and,  looking  closer,  he  saw  a  little 
child  lying  on  its  face  in  an  attitude  of  despair. 


A  STRANGE   WAGONER.  41 

At  first  Buster  John  thought  of  crawling  into 
the  wagon  and  asking  the  child  what  ailed  it,  but 
the  man  who  was  driving  was  in  plain  view,  and, 
though  Buster  John  was  bold  enough  for  a  small 
boy,  he  was  cautious  too.  The  child  seemed  to 
be  not  more  than  two  or  three  years  old,  and  as  it 
had  on  a  frock  Buster  John  could  n't  tell  whether 
it  was  a  boy  or  a  girl.  While  he  was  considering 
what  to  do,  the  child  raised  its  head,  saw  him,  and 
wailed :  "  Oh,  p'ease  tate  me  out  er  here  !  "  Bus- 
ter John  fell  rather  than  jumped  down,  for  he  was 
afraid  the  man  would  see  him.  Presently  the  face 
of  the  child  appeared  at  the  back  part  of  the 
wagon.  At  first  it  seemed  that  the  little  creature 
was  preparing  to  jump  out,  but  either  fear  over- 
came it,  or  the  driver  reached  back  and  cut  it  with 
his  whip,  for  it  fell  back  with  a  loud  wail  of 
agony,  a  wail  that  sounded  like  the  cry  of  some 
•wild  animal. 

Sweetest  Susan  was  ready  to  cry,  her  sympa- 
thies were  so  keen,  but  Buster  John  was  angry. 
He  ran  to  the  front  of  the  wagon  and  yelled  at 
the  man  :  — 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  your  baby  ?  " 

"  Hey  ?  "  responded  the  man.     "  Want  a  ride? 


42  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Of  course  you  can  ride  ;  climb  up.  I  ain't  got 
time  to  stop." 

"  I  said  what 's  the  matter  with  the  baby,  the 
baby  in  the  wagon  ? "  cried  Buster  John  at  the 
top  of  his  voice. 

"  In  the  waggin  ?  Oh,  yes  !  Well,  get  in." 

"  Don't  you  do  it,  brother,"  said  Sweetest  Su- 
san. "  He  heard  what  you  said." 

The  man  looked  at  them  with  twinkling  eyes. 
"  Oh,  both  want  to  ride.  Well,  get  in  —  that 's  all 
I  've  got  to  say." 

Buster  John  was  not  to  be  put  down  that  way ; 
he  was  very  close  to  home  now ;  in  fact,  he  could 
see  the  tall  form  of  his  grandfather  standing  on 
the  knoll  above  the  spring,  watching  the  covered 
wagon  with  curious  eyes,  for  it  had  been  a  long 
day  since  one  had  come  along  that  road  going  in 
that  direction.  So  Buster  John  grew  very  bold 
indeed.  He  went  close  to  the  front  wheel  of  the 
wagon,  close  to  the  heels  of  the  off-mule. 

"  You  know  what  I  said.  I  asked  you  what 
was  the  matter  with  the  baby  in  the  wagon." 

The  man  seemed  to  rouse  himself.  "  Baby  in 
the  waggin  !  Why,  they  ain't  no  baby  in  there  ; 
it 's  a  cat  I  picked  up  on  the  way.  She 's  a  mouser. 
We  need  mousers  where  I  'm  agoin'." 


A  STRANGE  WAGONER.  43 

Buster  John,  more  indignant  than  ever,  ran 
ahead,  called  his  grandfather,  and  asked  him  to  go 
and  see  about  the  baby  in  the  wagon,  telling  him 
hurriedly  how  queerly  the  man  had  acted. 

But  the  White-Haired  Master  shook  his  head. 
"He 's  only  playing  with  you,"  he  said. 

The  children  were  in  despair  at  this,  for  they 
were  sure  that  something  was  wrong.  Even  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  had  said  so.  Buster  John  began 
to  pout,  and  Sweetest  Susan  was  ready  to  cry. 
She  looked  appealingly  at  her  grandfather,  her 
eyes  swimming  in  tears. 

"What  is  it,  Sweetest?"  the  White-Haired 
Master  inquired. 

"  That  poor  little  baby,"  she  said,  controlling 
herself  the  best  she  could  ;  "  I  '11  dream  about  it 
all  night." 

"  Well,  don 't  cry  ;  we  '11  see  about  it,"  re- 
marked the  grandfather  soothingly. 

By  this  time  the  wagon  had  come  up.  The 
driver  bowed  politely  and  would  have  gone  on, 
but  the  White-Haired  Master  motioned  him  to 
stop.  This  he  did,  but  with  no  good  grace.  He 
pulled  up  his  mules,  and  sat  on  the  seat  expect- 
antly, with  a  grin  in  his  face  that  was  half  a 
scowl. 


44  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  You  come  from  Milledgeville  way  ?  "  the  chil- 
dren's grandfather  inquired. 

"  Who  told  you  ?  "  the  man  asked  quickly  ; 
"them  children  there?" 

"  No,"  said  the  White-Haired  Master,  frowning 
a  little.  "  I  was  simply  inquiring." 

The  man  laughed.  "  Well,  I  come  from  that- 
a-way." 

"What  news?"  asked  the  White-Haired  Mas- 
ter. 

"  Lots  an'  lots  ;  I  could  n't  tell  you  in  a  week. 
The  wide  world  is  turned  end  up'ards.  Murderin', 
riot,  bloodshed,  burnin',  rippin',  rarin',  roarin', 
snortin'.  You  know  what?"  The  man  closed 
his  restless,  roving  eyes.  "  Well,  down  yon  way 
they're  t'arin'  up  the  railroad  tracks  while  the 
brass  ban'  plays.  I  ketched  'em  a  doin'  of  it, 
an'  I  danced  wi'  'em  'roun'  the  fire  a  time  or  two, 
an'  then  I  picked  up  this  waggin  and  mules  and 
come  on  'bout  my  business." 

The  man  wagged  his  head  up  and  down,  and 
rolled  it  from  side  to  side,  and  shifted  his  glances, 
and  giggled  in  a  very  excited  manner.  The  chil- 
dren's grandfather  tried  to  find  some  basis  for  the 
man's  strange  actions  ;  tried  to  duplicate  them  in 
Vis  memory,  but  failed.  Then  he  asked  :  — 


A  STRANGE  WAGONER.  45 

"  What  have  you  in  your  wagon  ?  " 

"  Well,  fust  an'  last,  I  've  got  some  few  bed- 
cloze,  an'  some  few  ruffage  for  the  mules ;  an* 
then  —  well,  yes,  there 's  a  cat  I  picked  up,  a 
reg'ler  mouser.  She  growls,  but  there  ain't 
nothin'  the  matter  wi'  'er." 

In  response  to  this  statement  the  wagon  cover 
was  lifted  high  enough  for  the  child  to  put  its 
head  out.  Its  little  face  was  distorted  with  fear 
or  despair. 

"  Me  ain't  no  tat !  "  it  cried ;  "  my  mammy  say 
I 'm  her  'itty  bitsy  baby  ;  my  daddy  say  I'm  his 
big  'itty  man  ;  my  nunkey  tall  me  Billy  Bistit. 
Oh,  p'ease  lift  me  outer  here.  Me  wanter  see  my 
daddy  an'  mammy ! "  The  child  had  cried  and 
screamed  so  much  that  its  voice  had  a  harsh  and 
unnatural  sound.  It  pierced  the  tender  heart  o£ 
the  White-Haired  Master  like  a  knife  and  roused 
him  to  a  fury  of  indignation. 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  a  cat,  you  trifling  scoun- 
drel?" he  cried.  He  passed  through  the  gate 
and  was  now  close  to  the  man. 

"  That 's  what,"  answered  the  man  with  a 
chuckle.  "  He  '11  bite,  an'  he  '11  scratch,  an*  he  '11 
growl.  An'  he  calls  himself  Billy  Biscuit,  but  do 


46  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

be  look  like  a  biscuit  ?  You  would  n't  want  me 
to  call  him  a  chicken,  would  you  ?  " 

He  stuck  out  his  tongue  as  he  said  this,  and 
looked  about  as  foolish  as  it  is  possible  for  a  grown 
man  to  appear,  and  the  grandfather's  indignation 
changed  to  a  feeling  of  amazement  and  disgust. 

"  Is  the  child  yours  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  whose  should  he  be,  Mister  ?  You  'd  be 
errytated  ef  you  wuz  a  youngster  an'  had  to  ride 
all  day  in  a  kivered  waggin ;  now  would  n't 
you?"  ' 

The  observation  was  a  just  one,  considering  the 
source ;  and  though  it  lacked  feeling  and  sympathy, 
the  White-Haired  Master  could  make  no  reply. 

"  This  is  a  likely  place  to  camp  —  in  there  by 
the  spring,"  the  man  remarked.  "Ef  I  thought 
I  mought  be  so  bold  as  to  ax  you  "  — 

"You  may,"  said  the  White-Haired  Master. 
"  Drive  in  the  gate  here  and  unhitch  under  the 
trees  yonder.  There's  fire  under  the  wash-pot. 
You  '11  find  plenty  of  wood  to  start  it  up,  but  be 
careful  about  it ;  don 't  burn  any  of  the  fencing." 

The  man  drove  in  as  directed,  turned  his  wagon 
round,  the  tongue  pointing  to  the  gate,  unhitched 
his  mules,  watered  them  without  taking  the  har- 


A  STRANGE   WAGONER.  47 

ness  off,  and  then  gave  them  two  bundles  of  fod- 
der apiece  to  munch  on.  Then  he  got  out  his 
frying-pan,  his  skillet,  and  his  coffee-pot,  and 
finally  proceeded  to  kindle  a  fire. 

Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  watched  all 
these  proceedings  with  great  interest,  especially  as 
the  man  paused  every  now  and  then  to  talk  to 
himself.  "  Yes,  that 's  me,"  he  declared  over  and 
over  again  ;  "  Roby  Ransom,  corridor  1,  room  9." 

He  paid  no  attention  to  Buster  John  and  Sweet- 
est Susan,  nor  to  Drusilla,  who  joined  them  as  the 
wagon  drove  in  the  gate,  and  he  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  the  child  in  the  wagon.  But  Sweetest 
Susan  had  not  forgotten  it.  She  stood  by  the 
wagon  and  saw  the  little  one  looking  at  the  man 
with  frightened  eyes. 

The  whole  affair  was  very  interesting  to  the 
children.  The  big  trees  had  been  a  favorite  re- 
sort for  campers  in  old  times,  and  the  youngsters 
vaguely  remembered  seeing  strange  men  sitting 
around  the  fire  frying  bacon  that  sent  forth  a  very 
savory  odor,  but  of  late  years  there  had  been  no 
campers  there.  The  campers  and  wagoners,  like 
most  of  the  able-bodied  men,  had  been  camping 
out  under  the  tents  of  the  army  or  sleeping,  as 


48  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Johnny  Bapter  put  it,  "  under  the  naked  cano- 
pies." Therefore  this  mysterious  man  was  the 
first  camper  who  had  kindled  a  fire  in  the  spring 
lot  since  Buster  John,  Sweetest  Susan,  and  Dru- 
silla  had  been  of  an  age  to  appreciate  the 
circumstance. 

Consequently  they  watched  him  closely  and  in 
comparative  silence,  their  comments  being  con- 
fined to  low  whispers.  Sweetest  Susan's  solicitude 
was  for  the  child  in  the  wagon,  but  her  curiosity 
compelled  her  to  keep  sharp  eyes  on  the  man,  who 
went  nervously  about  his  business,  and  very  awk- 
wardly, too,  as  even  the  children  could  see. 
Sweetest  Susan's  solicitude  was  rewarded,  for,  as 
she  leaned  against  the  frame  of  the  wagon,  the 
child  on  the  inside  reached  its  soft  little  hands 
out  and  patted  her  gently  on  the  arm.  To  Sweet- 
est Susan  this  was  more  than  a  caress,  and  she 
seized  the  small  hand  and  held  it  against  her 
cheek  for  a  moment.  Then  she  made  bold  to 
ask  the  man  —  she  called  him  Mr.  Ransom  at  a 
venture  —  if  she  might  bring  the  little  one  some 
supper. 

"Who  told  you  my  name?"  the  man  asked 
with  suspicion  in  his  eyes. 


A  STRANGE   WAGONER.  49 

"I  heard  you  call  yourself  Roby  Ransom," 
replied  Sweetest  Susan  very  politely. 

"  Well,  you  heard  right  for  once,"  he  said. 
"  Supper  for  the  young-un  ?  Tooby  shore ;  fetch 
it.  I  did  n't  allow  I  'd  take  in  boarders  when  I 
started,  an'  I  ain't  got  any  too  much  vittles  for 
myself." 

So  Sweetest  Susan  and  Drusilla  went  to  the 
house  to  arrange  for  bringing  the  child  some  sup- 
per, while  Buster  John  lagged  behind  and  watched 
the  man  till  the  bell  rang.  Meanwhile  the  grand- 
father had  told  his  daughter  (the  mother  of  Bus- 
ter John  and  Sweetest  Susan)  about  the  child  in 
the  wagon,  and  that  lady  was  in  quite  a  fume 
about  it.  At  first  she  insisted  on  going  down  and 
taking  the  child  away  from  the  man  j  she  was  sure 
there  was  something  wrong. 

"  There  may  be,"  said  the  White-Haired  Mas- 
ter, "  but  we  are  not  sure  about  it,  and  we  might 
make  bad  matters  worse.  There 's  plainly  some- 
thing wrong  about  the  man  ;  that  much  is  certain ; 
but  the  child  may  be  his,  and  it  may  be  badly 
spoiled.  No,  it  would  be  wrong  to  interfere  with 
him ;  I  've  thought  it  all  over." 

"If   you'll   take   my  advice,"    remarked    his 


50  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

daughter,  "  you  '11  make  the  negroes  tie  the  man 
and  lock  him  in  the  corn-crib  until  we  find  out 
something  about  him." 

"  That  would  hardly  be  |egal,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  there  is  much  law  in  the 
country  at  this  time,"  the  lady  insisted.  "  If  we 
knew  he  had  stolen  the  child,  what  could  you  do 
with  him?" 

"What  you  say  is  very  true,"  remarked  the 
White-Haired  Master  j  "  truer  even  than  you  think 
it  is.  Still,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  be 
hasty  and  unjust." 

As  the  lady  was  convinced  against  her  will,  she 
remained  of  the  same  opinion  still,  and  that  opin- 
ion became  a  conviction  when  Sweetest  Susan 
arrived  and  told  all  she  saw  and  all  she  thought. 
But  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  give  the 
child  one  full  meal  if  it  got  no  more,  and  so  the 
lady  set  about  fixing  supper  for  the  unfortunate. 
She  piled  a  plate  high  with  biscuits  and  ham  and 
chicken,  and  when  the  children  were  through  sup- 
per they  waited  patiently  for  Drusilla  to  finish  hers, 
so  they  could  all  go  together.  Sweetest  Susan 
insisted  on  carrying  the  plate  herself. 


A  STRANGE   WAGONER.  51 

When  they  arrived  at  the  camper's  fire,  they 
found  the  man  eating  supper  by  himself. 

"  Where 's  the  baby  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan. 

"In  the  waggin,"  replied  the  man  curtly.  "I 
wanted  to  take  the  imp  out,  but  he  would  n't  let 
me  tetch  him.  Git  him  out,  if  you  can." 

The  child  needed  no  coaxing  when  Sweetest 
Susan  called  him.  He  crawled  to  the  front  of 
the  wagon  and  held  out  his  arms  to  her,  and  he 
hugged  her  so  tightly  around  the  neck  that  it 
was  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  climb  down  with- 
out falling.  The  little  fellow  was  well  dressed, 
but  he  was  barefooted,  and  his  feet  were  very 
cold. 

"  Where  are  his  shoes  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan 
indignantly. 

"He  must  er  pulled  'em  off  and  flung  'em 
away.  Oh,  he 's  a  livin'  terror,  he  is.  Don't  you 
let  him  fool  you." 

The  child  ate  his  supper  sitting  in  Sweetest 
Susan's  lap,  and  he  seemed  to  be  very  hungry. 
He  tried  to  make  Sweetest  Susan  eat  some,  too, 
and  once  or  twice  he  smiled  when  she  pretended 
to  be  eating  ravenously.  But  for  the  most  part 
the  child  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Mr.  Ransom,  and 


52  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

clung  more  tightly  to  Sweetest  Susan  whenever  he 
caught  the  man  looking  at  him. 

The  result  of  it  all  was,  that  when  the  time 
came  for  the  children  to  go  to  the  house,  Sweet- 
est Susan  found  it  impossible  to  get  rid  of  the 
child.  He  would  n't  allow  Ransom  to  take  him 
—  he  seemed  ready  to  go  into  convulsions  when- 
ever the  man  approached  ;  and,  finally,  in  order  to 
induce  him  to  get  into  the  wagon,  Sweetest  Susan 
had  to  go  in  with  him  (accompanied  by  Drusilla) 
and  once  there,  she  was  compelled  to  lie  by  the 
child  until  it  dropped  off  to  sleep.  He  held  her 
hand  tightly  clasped  in  his  tiny  fists. 

Buster  John  was  impatient,  and  said  he  was 
going  to  bed,  and  Sweetest  Susan  told  him  to  tell 
mamma  that  she  and  Drusilla  would  come  as  soon 
as  the  baby  went  to  sleep.  Drusilla,  drowsy-eyed, 
lay  down  on  the  bedclothes  and  was  asleep  before 
the  child  was.  Sweetest  Susan  made  every  effort 
to  withdraw  her  hand  and  slip  from  the  wagon, 
but  these  movements  aroused  the  child,  and  set  it 
to  whimpering. 

Everything  was  very  still ;  even  the  frogs  called 
to  one  another  drowsily.  The  mules  had  cleaned 
up  their  ration  of  fodder,  and  were  now  dozing. 


A  STRANGE  WAGONER.  53 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  not  long  before 
Sweetest  Susan  was  as  sound  asleep  as  Drusilla, 
and,  apparently,  the  child  was  asleep,  too. 

Ransom  in  due  time  arose  from  the  fire  where  he 
had  been  sitting,  went  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon, 
looked  in,  and  then  stood  listening  intently. 
Nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the  regular,  heavy 
breathing  of  three  sound  sleepers.  He  went  to 
the  spring,  got  some  water,  and  carefully  put  out 
the  fire.  At  no  time  had  it  been  a  large  one. 
Then  stealthily,  almost  noiselessly,  he  hitched  the 
mules  to  the  wagon,  drove  out  at  the  gate  and 
into  the  public  road.  Once  Sweetest  Susan 
dreamed  that  she  was  going  to  town  in  the  wagon 
with  Johnny  Bapter ;  but  that  must  have  been 
when  the  wagon  was  going  down  the  long  and 
steep  hill  that  led  to  Crooked  Creek. 

An  hour  after  the  wagon  had  disappeared,  Mrs. 
Wyche,  the  children's  mother,  aroused  herself 
from  thoughts  of  her  husband,  who  was  in  the 
army,  and  remembered  that  it  was  long  past  the 
time  for  Sweetest  Susan  to  be  in  bed.  She  called 
to  Jemimy,  Drusilla's  mother,  who  was  nodding 
by  the  fire  in  the  dining-room. 

"  Jemimy,  go  to  the  spring  where  the  wagoner 


54  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

is  camping,  and  tell  Sweetest  Susan  and  Brasilia 
to  come  straight  to  the  house ;  they  should  have 
been  here  long  ago.  Bring  them  with  you." 

Jemimy  went  to  the  spring,  but  saw  no  wagon 
nor  any  signs  of  one,  the  fire  being  out.  She 
heard  Johnny  Bapter  singing  near  the  lot ;  she 
called  him  and  asked  about  the  wagon. 

"  Ef  'tain't  down  dar  by  de  spring,  I  dunner 
whar  't  is." 

Jemiiny  ran  back  to  the  house,  nearly  fright- 
ened to  death.  Her  report  was  :  "  Mist'iss,  dey 
ain't  no  wagon  dar !  " 

"  Merciful  heavens  !  "  screamed  the  lady,  "  I 
told  father  to  have  the  man  tied  and  locked  in  the 
corn-crib,  and  now  he  has  stolen  my  child  !  Oh, 
what  shall  I  do?" 

"  An'  he  gof  Brasilia !  "  cried  Jemimy,  throw- 
ing up  her  hands  wildly. 

The  White-Haired  Master  came  forth  from  the 
library  with  a  troubled  face.  He  was  a  man  of 
action,  and  in  five  minutes  the  whole  plantation 
was  aroused.  But  Sweetest  Susan  and  Brasilia 
had  disappeared.  Strong-lunged  negroes  called 
them,  but  they  made  no  answer.  They  were  sev- 
eral miles  away  and  fast  asleep. 


DEY   AIN'T   NO   WAGON   DAR! 


IV. 

SWEETEST    SUSAN'S    STRANGE    ADVENTURE. 

THE  White-Haired  Master  was  a  man  of  action, 
but  one  was  before  him.  As  soon  as  Johnny 
Bapter  heard  Jemimy's  inquiry,  and  found  that 
the  wagon  had  disappeared,  he  ran  to  Aaron's 
cabin  with  the  news.  Instantly  the  Son  of  Ben 
Ali  was  on  his  feet  and  running.  Straight  to 
the  horse-lot  he  went,  where  he  gave  a  peculiar 
call,  and  one  of  the  horses  came  galloping  to 
him,  whinnying.  There  was  a  clinking  of  har- 
ness, a  rush  to  the  carriage  house,  and  in  two 
minutes  the  rattle  of  buggy  wheels  was  heard  on 
the  gravel.  By  the  time  the  White-Haired  Mas- 
ter could  get  his  overcoat  on  and  fix  himself 
for  facing  the  cold,  crisp  air,  the  buggy  was  at 
the  back  gate  with  Aaron  calling,  "  All  ready, 
Master." 

He  had  no  need  to  repeat  the  call.  The  chil- 
dren's grandfather  came  running  down  the  steps 


56  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

very  nimbly  for  one  of  his  years,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment was  in  the  buggy,  with  Aaron  beside  him. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Master,"  replied  the  son  of  Ben  AH. 

"  I  'm  mighty  glad  of  it,"  remarked  the  White- 
Haired  Master.  "  Where  are  the  reins  ?  " 

"  In  the  saddle  ring  ;  I  forgot  to  take  'em  out." 
He  spoke  to  the  horse,  and  the  animal  broke 
from  a  walk  into  a  canter,  shaking  its  head  play- 
fully. By  this  time,  Johnny  Bapter,  armed  with 
a  flaming  torch,  was  more  than  halfway  to  the 
side  gate,  where  the  wagon  had  come  in  and  gone 
out.  He  reached  the  gate  as  the  buggy  drove 
up,  and  Aaron  seized  the  torch  and  examined  the 
ground.  He  saw  the  wagon  tracks  coming  in, 
and  saw  where  it  turned  as  it  went  out.  He 
spoke  to  the  horse  as  he  flung  the  torch  away, 
and  climbed  into  the  buggy  as  it  moved  off.  He 
spoke  once  more,  and  the  animal  broke  into  what 
seemed  to  be  a  wild  gallop,  going  so  rapidly  that 
the  buggy  appeared  to  be  in  the  air  when  it  went 
whirling  over  a  sunken  place  in  the  road.  On 
level  stretches  the  horse  ran  as  a  racer  runs,  and 
the  wheels  of  the  buggy  gave  forth  an  undertone 
that  sounded  like  the  droning  of  a  swarm  of  bees. 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     57 

"  How  do  you  drive  without  the  lines  ?  "  the 
White-Haired  Master  asked,  when  he  became  con- 
vinced that  the  son  of  Ben  Ali  had  the  horse 
under  complete  control. 

"  He  knows  me,  Master,  and  I  know  him,"  re- 
plied Aaron. 

It  was  not  a  satisfactory  answer,  perhaps,  but  it 
seemed  to  be  sufficient.  Up  hill  the  horse,  which 
was  a  strong  one,  went  with  a  long,  swinging 
trot.  The  top  reached,  the  trot  would  be  ex- 
changed for  a  gallop.  This  went  on  for  some 
time,  until  Aaron  vetoed  the  gallop.  When  they 
had  gone  on  for  an  hour,  and  were  nearly  to 
Harmony  Grove,  a  small  settlement  about  ten 
miles  from  the  Abercrombie  place,  the  Son  of 
Ben  Ali  stopped  the  horse,  jumped  from  the 
buggy,  and  carefully  examined  the  road  ahead, 
getting  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  to  do  so. 

He  rose  and  shook  his  head,  and  walked  slowly 
back  to  the  buggy. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  the  White-Haired  Mas- 
ter asked. 

"  The  wagon  ain't  come  'long  here,  Master. 
The  wheel  tire  is  two  inches  wide.  No  track  like 
that  in  the  road." 


58  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  It  was  an  army  wagon,"  said  the  grandfather 
musingly.  "  What  has  become  of  it  ?  It  must 
have  passed  here.  The  first  fork  in  the  road  is 
at  Harmony  Grove.  We  '11  go  there." 

So  they  drove  on  to  Harmony  Grove.  As  it 
happened  there  was  a  sort  of  social  gathering  in 
the  schoolhouse.  As  always  happens  on  such  oc- 
casions, there  were  several  young  men  and  boys 
who  were  too  shy  to  venture  in  the  house  where 
the  girls  and  young  women  were.  If  a  wagon  or 
vehicle  of  any  kind  had  passed,  they  surely  would 
have  seen  it.  But  no  wagon  had  passed. 

Such  of  them  as  had  horses  volunteered  to  join 
the  searching  party,  but  the  White-Haired  Master 
thanked  them.  If  the  wagon  had  n't  passed,  it 
was  still  on  the  road  somewhere,  and  he  and 
Aaron  would  find  it.  Indeed,  the  White-Haired 
Master  had  made  a  calculation.  Harmony  Grove 
was  ten  miles  from  his  place.  He  had  come  the 
distance  in  something  less  than  an  hour,  and  it 
was  now  ten  o'clock.  If  the  wagon  had  left 
the  spring  at  eight  o'clock  it  could  hardly  have 
reached  Harmony  Grove  before  then.  Aaron 
judged  that  they  should  have  overtaken  the 
•wagon  about  six  miles  from  the  spring. 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     59 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  had  overtaken  the 
wagon  and  passed  it,  five  and  one  half  miles  from 
home,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  at  the  humble  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Barlow  Bobs.  They  had  passed 
the  wagon  without  knowing  it,  for  the  reason 
that  the  vehicle  was  not  in  sight  from  the  road, 
and  they  would  have  passed  it  in  broad  daylight. 

The  driver,  Mr.  Roby  Ransom  —  that  was 
really  his  name,  as  it  turned  out  —  had  not  gone 
more  than  two  miles  from  the  Abercrombie  place 
before  the  desire  to  sleep  overcame  him,  and  he 
began  to  nod.  For  a  while  he  would  nod,  and 
then  rouse  himself ;  but  finally  he  leaned  against 
the  framework,  over  which  the  cover  was  spread, 
and  began  to  sleep  soundly.  The  lines  slipped 
from  his  hands,  but  caught  on  the  brake  and 
hung  there,  too  high  for  the  feet  of  the  mules  to 
become  entangled  in  them. 

When  the  wagon  came  to  the  top  of  the  long 
hill  that  slopes  down  to  Crooked  Creek,  the  mules 
were  surprised  to  feel  no  restraining  hands  on  the 
reins.  At  first  they  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  but 
they  were  well  trained,  and  they  held  back  the 
wagon  until  near  the  bottom,  and  then  they  broke 
into  a  swift  trot  and  went  swishing  through  the 


60  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

shallow  waters  of  Crooked  Creek.  Without  a 
pause  they  pulled  the  wagon  sedately  up  the  op- 
posite hill,  which  was  not  a  very  steep  one.  They 
remained  in  the  road  as  became  sensible  mules, 
but  they  grew  more  and  more  uncertain  in  their 
movements  as  they  realized  that  no  hand  was 
guiding  them. 

Finally  they  came  to  the  humble  home  of  Mr. 
Bobs  —  or,  rather,  they  came  to  the  short  lane 
that  led  to  Mr.  Bobs's  log  cabin.  Into  this  they 
turned,  the  hub  of  the  hind  wheel  missing  the 
fence  corner  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair.  Pursuing 
this  road,  they  followed  it  into  Mr.  Bobs's  back 
yard ;  and  they  finally  drew  up  behind  the  corn- 
crib,  a  double-pen  built  of  logs.  As  there  was  a 
fat  fodder  stack  behind  this  crib,  the  mules  con- 
cluded that  they  would  put  up  for  the  night. 
After  this,  the  only  movement  they  made  was  to 
see-saw  the  wagon  as  they  reached  for  the  fodder, 
and  to  snort  occasionally  when  too  much  dust 
from  the  forage  crept  up  their  nostrils. 

Once,  about  five  minutes  after  the  mules  had 
reached  this  harbor,  they  pricked  up  their  ears  at 
the  sound  of  a  running  horse  whirling  a  buggy 
along  the  road,  and  Mr.  Bobs's  house-dog  barked 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     61 

dubiously,  but  beyond  this  there  was  nothing  to 
bother  them,  and  no  alarming  noises  were  heard. 
Sweetest  Susan,  Little  Biscuit,  and  Drusilla  were 
sound  asleep,  and  so  was  Mr.  Roby  Ransom.  It 
was  a  good  thing  for  Mr.  Ransom  that  he  was 
asleep,  for  there  is  no  doubt  that  if  the  White- 
Haired  Master  had  come  up  with  him  on  the  road 
he  would  have  fared  but  ill.  But  JProjddence 
seemed  to  have  taken  him  under  its  wing. 

The  White-rETaired  Master  concluded  to  wait  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Harmony  Grove  until  dawn, 
knowing  that  nothing  could  be  done  in  the  dark- 
ness. It  was  a  long,  long  night.  The  grand- 
father walked  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  the 
whole  time,  and  though  the  Son  of  Ben  AH  sat 
in  the  schoolhouse  as  still  as  a  statue,  he  was  as 
impatient  as  the  Master.  He  had  built  a  fire  in 
the  old  sheet-iron  stove,  and  the  draft  rushing 
into  this  puffed  like  a  locomotive,  and,  for  a 
while,  kept  time  with  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  of 
the  grandfather. 

But  dawn  came  at  last,  and  as  soon  as  things 
were  visible,  the  two  were  in  the  buggy  and 
away.  When  they  had  gone  two  or  three  miles 
toward  home,  Aaron  jumped  from  the  buggy  and 


62  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

strolled  on  ahead  of  the  horse.  It  was  quite 
light  by  this  time,  and  he  scanned  the  road  care- 
fully, searching  for  the  tracks  made  by  the  big 
wheels  of  the  army  wagon.  He  could  not  find 
them  where  they  were  not,  but  when  he  came  to 
the  short  lane  that  led  to  Mr.  Bobs's  house,  he 
saw  where  the  wagon  had  turned  in.  Making 
sure  that  it  had  not  come  out  again,  he  waited 
for  the  White-Haired  Master  to  come  up.  He 
said  not  a  word,  but  pointed  to  the  tracks  made 
by  the  wheels. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Mr.  Bobs  had  his  sister, 
Miss  Elviry,  for  his  housekeeper.  Miss  Elviry 
was  forty-odd  years  old,  and  quite  independent  of 
servants,  and  it  was  her  habit  to  rise  at  daybreak, 
summer  and  winter,  kindle  into  a  blaze  the  fire 
that  had  been  wrapped  in  a  blanket  of  ashes  the 
night  before,  and  proceed  to  cook  an  early  break- 
fast, so  that  her  brother  might  get  to  work  at  his 
turning-lathe,  or  his  broom-making,  as  soon  as 
possible.  Miss  Elviry  went  to  bed  early  and  rose 
early,  as  a  matter  of  both  conscience  and  habit. 
But  on  this  particular  morning  she  rose  earlier 
than  usual.  She  &ad  a  "  feelin',''  as  she  after- 
ward expressed  it,  that  everything  was  not  all 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     63 

right.  Once  or  twice,  when  she  woke  during  the 
night,  she  heard  the  house  dog  uttering  smoth- 
ered growls  and  whining,  a  certain  sign  that 
everything  was  not  as  it  should  be.  She  refrained 
from  rousing  her  brother,  but  she  had  a  good 
mind  to.  She  made  up  for  her  restraint  in  this 
matter,  however,  by  rising  half  an  hour  earlier  her- 
self. She  kindled  a  fire,  put  on  a  supply  of  wood 
to  keep  it  going,  and  hurriedly  dressed  herself. 
Then,  although  the  stars  were  shining,  she  un- 
bolted the  back  door  and  looked  out.  The  little 
outhouse  in  which  Mr.  Bobs  did  his  work  and 
kept  his  tools  barred  her  vision,  but  she  heard 
unusual  noises,  such  as  the  rattling  of  chains  and 
the  creaking  of  harness  and  the  snorting  of  horses 
or  mules. 

Now,  Miss  Elviry  was  not  a  timid  woman.  She 
had  some  of  the  independence  and  energy  that 
would  have  made  her  brother  more  prosperous 
had  he  possessed  a  fair  share  of  them.  So,  while 
she  was  astonished  at  the  noises  she  heard,  she 
was  not  alarmed.  Instead  of  rushing  into  her 
brother's  room  to  arouse  him,  she  seized  the  axe, 
which  was  always  brought  in  over  night  in  case 
of  an  emergency,  and  sallied  out  to  see  what  it 
•was  that  had  taken  possession. 


64  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

The  house  dog  heard  her,  and  came  out  from 
under  the  house  fairly  screaming  with  delight,  for 
he  had  had  a  horrible  night  of  it.  Feeling  him- 
self adequately  reinforced  by  Miss  Elviry's  pre- 
sence, his  bristles  rose,  and  he  rushed  around  the 
outhouse  and  proceeded  to  bay  the  back  end  of 
the  wagon  with  the  greatest  fury,  and  his  indig- 
nation grew  even  greater  when  he  heard  Miss 
Elviry's  firm  voice  urging  him  to  "  Sic  'em,  Spot ! 
Sic  'em ! " 

The  voice  aroused  Sweetest  Susan,  but  did  not 
seem  to  disturb  the  other  sleepers.  The  child 
rubbed  her  eyes,  but  for  a  long  moment  she  could 
not  imagine  where  she  was.  Then  she  remem- 
bered she  was  in  the  wagon  when  she  should  be 
at  home  in  bed.  And,  "  Oh,  what  will  mamma 
say  ?  "  Dawn,  still  glimmering  far  away,  sent  a 
gleam  of  light  into  the  wagon,  and  toward  this 
Sweetest  Susan  groped  her  way,  stumbling  over 
Drusilla,  who  merely  turned  over  with  a  sigh  that 
sounded  like  a  groan. 

"  Who  are  you,  anyhow  ?  "  cried  Miss  Elviry 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  it 's  only  me  !  "  answered  Sweetest  Susan, 
whose  head  and  shoulders  were  dimly  outlined 


'OH,  WHAT   WILL   MAMMA   SAY?' 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     65 

against  the  interior  darkness  of  the  wagon. 
"Take  me  out,  please.  Oh,  this  is  not  home! 
Where  am  I?" 

Miss  Elviry  went  nearer ;  there  was  something 
about  the  child's  voice  that  drew  her.  "  Oh,  hush 
up,  Spot !  "  she  cried  to  the  dog ;  "  now  you  've 
started,  you'll  never  stop."  She  went  close  to 
the  wagon  end  and  looked  at  the  child  as  well  as 
she  could.  "  What 's  your  name,  honey  ?  " 

Now,  as  soon  as  Miss  Elviry  came  nearer,  the 
child's  sharper  vision  recognized  her.  She  made 
quilts,  and  wove  counterpanes  for  people  who 
were  comfortably  well  off,  and  she  had  in  this 
way  been  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Abercrombie 
place. 

"Is  that  you,  Miss  Elviry?  Please  take  me 
out ! " 

Miss  Elviry  was  thunderstruck,  as  she  said 
afterwards. 

"Well,  ef  that  ain't  — Why!  Well  I  know 
the  end  of  the  world  ain't  fur  off  now !  Susan 
Wyche,  what  are  you  doin'  in  this  rig  at  this 
time  of  day,  when  by  good  rights  you  ought  to 
be  at  home  in  bed  ?  " 

"  Take  me  out,  please,  Miss  Elviry ;  and  don't 


66  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

scold.  I  'm  going  to  run  to  the  house  as  hard  as 
I  can." 

'•  Ef  you  are  talkin'  about  your  own  house, 
you  '11  have  to  do  some  extry  hard  runnin'  ef  you 
get  there  by  dinner  time.  You  '11  go  into  this 
house  right  here.  'T  ain't  so  big  an'  fine,  but  the 
fire  in  there  is  just  as  •warm,  and  your  hands  are 
like  ice." 

So  she  carried  Sweetest  Susan  in  the  house,  put 
a  pillow  in  the  chair,  "  to  make  it  feel  like  home," 
as  she  said,  and  stationed  the  child  in  the  warmest 
corner.  Then  she  woke  her  brother.  "  Do  your 
dressin'  in  your  own  room,"  she  said;  "we've 
got  comp'ny  this  mornin'." 

Mr.  Bobs  did  n't  seem  to  relish  this,  and  he 
began  to  grumble  in  tones  too  low  to  be  heard  in 
the  adjoining  room.  "  Comp'ny !  Well,  be  jing'd 
cf  they  ain't  afoot  early  !  That 's  all  I  've  got  to 
say,  bejing'd  ef  't  ain't."  And  that  was  ah1  Mr. 
Bobs  did  say. 

Sweetest  Susan  soon  informed  Miss  Elviry  of 
the  facts  as  she  knew  them,  and  then  remembered 
that  Brasilia  was  still  in  the  wagon  —  and  the 
cute  little  baby  —  yes,  and  that  awful  man. 

Mr.  Bobs  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  Sweet- 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     67 

est  Susan  in  that  place  at  that  early  hour,  and 
glad,  too,  for  he  and  the  Abercrombies  and  the 
Wyches  had  always  been  good  friends. 

"  You  know  what  it  says  in  the  Bible,  Elviry ; 
fust  war,  and  then  signs  and  wonders.  That 's 
what  it  says,  bejinged  ef  'tain't."  In  a  few  mo- 
ments Mr.  Bobs  was  put  in  possession  of  such 
facts  as  his  sister  had  learned,  and  the  fifty-odd 
queer  conclusions  her  quick  imagination  had  con- 
jured into  being. 

It  was  quite  light  now,  and  Mr.  Bobs,  selecting 
a  stout  hickory  cane  from  his  collection,  sallied 
out,  remarking  :  "  He  's  got  to  be  a  heap  bigger 
than  me  ef  I  don't  find  out  why  he's  creepin' 
'roun'  a-stealin'  children,  and  why  he 's  crope  into 
my  premises.  Bejing'd  ef  he  ain't." 

But  as  Mr.  Bobs  went  out,  the  White-Haired 
Master  drove  into  the  lane,  and  he  and  Aaron 
came  forward  as  rapidly  as  they  could.  Mr.  Bobs 
went  to  the  wagon,  turned  the  heads  of  the  mules 
away  from  the  fodder  stack,  and  then  looked  into 
the  wagon.  Brasilia  and  Little  Biscuit  were 
soundly  sleeping,  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of 
the  driver.  Searching  around  the  premises  care- 
fully and  continuously,  Mr.  Bobs  presently  heard 


68  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

a  voice  in  a  pine  thicket  not  far  away,  and  there 
•was  Mr.  Roby  Ransom  preaching  a  sermon  to  the 
birds  and  bushes.  He  was  not  preaching  loudly, 
for  he  seemed  to  be  exhausted,  and  occasionally 
he  leaned  against  a  sapling  for  support. 

Mr.  Bobs  knew  him  at  once  as  a  crazy  man  who 
had  lived  in  the  neighborhood  some  years  before, 
and  who  had  been  sent  to  the  asylum  from  an 
adjoining  county. 

Meanwhile  the  White-Haired  Master  and  the 
Son  of  Ben  All  came  up,  and  great  was  their  con- 
sternation for  a  moment  when  they  discovered  that 
neither  Sweetest  Susan  nor  the  wagoner  were  to 
be  seen.  Fortunately,  the  suspense  of  the  grand- 
father was  of  short  duration.  He  heard  Sweetest 
Susan  call  his  name,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  in 
his  arms,  and  Miss  Elviry  found  it  necessary  to 
wipe  her  specs. 

Then  came  Mr.  Bobs  with  an  explanation  of 
the  whole  matter ;  and  he  and  the  White-Haired 
Master  and  Aaron  went  to  secure  the  unfortunate 
Mr.  Ransom. 

"  Roby,  you  better  come  go  with  us,  I  reckiii,  * 
said  Mr.  Bobs  kindly,  laying  his  hand  on  Ran- 
som's shoulder  ;  "  come,  now,  you  better  go  'long 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     69 

But  the  unfortunate  had  worked  himself  into 
a  state  of  frenzy.  He  glared  at  the  three  with 
glassy  eyes,  and  then,  shrieking  out  something 
about  the  fiend  Apollyon,  ran  through  the  bushes 
and  brambles  into  the  woods.  Not  even  Aaron 
could  overtake  him.  He  disappeared,  and  al- 
though searching  parties  scoured  the  woods  for 
miles  around,  the  unfortunate  was  never  seen 
again.  His  fate  became  a  legend,  and  the  legend 
developed  into  the  collection  of  myths  which  in 
that  neighborhood  are  passed  about  from  mouth 
to  mouth  to  this  day.  Those  most  affected  by  the 
whites  tell  of  Robber  Ransom,  while  those  of  the 
negroes  give  blood-curdling  tales  about  Robity- 
ransom.  Some  of  these  tales  are  curious,  while 
all  are  marvelous,  and  parts  of  other  myths  and 
legends  have  been  injected  into  them. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  neither  the 
White-Haired  Master  nor  Aaron  made  any  serious 
effort  to  find  the  lunatic  after  he  had  once  disap- 
peared. They  had  other  things  to  think  about. 
There  was  Sweetest  Susan's  mother ;  they  knew 
that  every  hour  that  passed  without  their  return 
was  to  her  a  long  season  of  agony.  The  Son  of 
Ben  Ali,  indeed,  made  no  delay  about  going. 


70  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

There  would  not  be  room  in  the  buggy  for  four, 
in  any  event,  and  by  taking  advantage  of  the 
neighborhood  by-paths  and  short  cuts,  he  could 
reduce  the  distance  by  at  least  a  mile  and  a  half. 

The  White-Haired  Master  delayed  no  longer 
than  was  necessary.  Mr.  Bobs  and  Miss  Elviry 
insisted  that  he  should  have  a  bit  to  eat.  "E£ 
't  ain't  fine,  it 's  clean,  thank  goodness  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed. But  no  ;  he  smiled  at  Miss  Elviry's  re- 
mark and  declared  that  he  would  have  no  appetite 
until  he  saw  Sweetest  Susan  safe  in  her  mother's 
arms.  Drusilla  heard  the  remark,  and  wondered 
if  she  'd  be  safe  in  her  mammy's  arms ;  and  after 
thinking  over  it  awhile  she  concluded  that  she  'd 
be  far  from  safe  at  this  time.  Jemimy's  affection 
was  strong  enough,  but  it  had  very  sharp  reac- 
tions when  her  alarm  was  over. 

There  were  still  two  matters  to  settle.  The 
first  made  its  appearance  in  the  back  of  the  wagon, 
while  the  White-Haired  Master  was  thanking  Miss 
Elviry  for  her  proffered  breakfast.  It  was  little 
Billy  Biscuit,  who  thumped  on  the  wagon  gate 
and  cried  :  — 

11  Please  tate  me  down.  Me  want  my  bekkus. 
Me  'mell  meat  a-f'yin'." 


SWEETEST  SUSAN'S  STRANGE  ADVENTURE.     71 

"  Did  you  ever,  in  all  your  born  days ! "  ex- 
claimed Miss  Elviry.  Then  she  ran  to  the  wagon, 
smiled  at  the  child,  and  little  Billy  Biscuit 
laughed  back  at  her.  When  she  took  him  in  her 
arms,  he  put  his  small  arms  around  her  neck  and 
hugged  her  so  hard  that  he  grunted.  It  was  evi- 
dently a  trick  that  his  mother  had  taught  him, 
and  a  very  cute  one  it  was.  This  time,  when  Miss 
Elviry  laughed,  she  blushed. 

"  You  need  n't  be  amazed  at  the  blushin',"  re- 
marked Mr.  Bobs  to  the  White-Haired  Master ; 
"  she  ain't  been  hugged  afore,  not  sence  —  well, 
not  sence  I  dunno  when." 

Miss  Elviry's  only  reply  to  this  was  to  kiss  the 
baby  and  squeeze  him  the  more  closely  to  her 
breast.  Now,  when  Sweetest  Susan  saw  little 
Billy  Biscuit,  it  caused  her  a  sharp  pang  of  re- 
morse to  feel  that  she  had  almost  forgotten  the 
poor  little  thing.  She  ran  to  him  now,  and  would 
have  taken  him  in  her  arms,  but  he,  thinking  she 
was  up  for  a  frolic,  kicked  his  feet,  laughing  and 
screaming  in  glee,  and  clung  to  Miss  Elviry. 

Nevertheless,  the  child  was  a  problem.  What 
was  to  be  done  with  him?  It  was  plain  that 
Ransom,  the  lunatic,  perhaps  feeling  the  need  of 


72  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

company,  had  taken  him  on  the  road.  To  ex- 
plain the  child's  presence,  however,  did  n't  settle 
the  matter.  He  was  there,  and  what  was  to  be 
done  with  him  ?  Miss  Elviry  solved  the  problem. 

"  May  n't  I  keep  him  'till  his  kinnery  come  ?  " 
she  insisted. 

"Less'n  he  begins  for  to  blate  an'  squall  at 
night,"  remarked  Mr.  Bobs  laughing. 

But  Miss  Elviry  was  very  earnest  about  it,  and 
so  it  was  arranged. 

"  And  we  can  come  and  see  him  sometimes," 
said  Sweetest  Susan,  with  an  eye  to  the  future. 

"  Yes ;  and  when  you  come,  fetch  a  lot  of  old 
clothes  that  used  to  belong  to  you  an'  your 
brother,  ef  your  ma 's  got  any  to  spare,"  replied 
Miss  Elviry,  with  an  eye  to  the  practical. 

There  was  another  problem  —  the  wagon  and 
mules.  "  Ef  them  mules  has  swallowed  one  bun- 
dle of  fodder,  they've  walloped  up  a  hunderd- 
weight,"  remarked  Mr.  Bobs,  when  the  subject  of 
the  wagon  was  mentioned.  It  was  finally  decided 
that  he  was  to  take  charge  of  the  vehicle  and 
team,  and  if  no  one  called  for  them,  they  were  to 
be  his. 


V. 

A   VISIT    TO    BILLY   BISCUIT. 

As  the  kidnapped  children  were  preparing  to 
get  in  the  buggy,  Brasilia  made  this  remark  to 
Sweetest  Susan  :  — 

"  Ef  mammy  don't  kill  me  dis  day,  it  '11  be  kaze 
I  'm  dead  when  I  git  dar." 

At  home  Jemimy  was  walking  up  and  down 
wringing  her  hands,  and  making  statements  that 
went  far  to  show  that  Drusilla  knew  pretty  wel 
what  to  expect. 

"  I  ain't  sleep  a  wink  dis  night,  less'n  you  can 
call  noddin'  sleepin' ;  not  a  wink ;  an'  when  E 
does  git  holt  er  dat  gal,  I  'm  gwineter  make  ter 
wish  she  'd  'a'  stayed  los'." 

"Just  because  she  stayed  with  Sweetest  Susan, 
I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Wyche. 

"  No'm,  not  'zactly  dat,"  replied  Jemimy ;  "  bu; 
why  n't  she  come  on  ter  de  house  an'  fetch 
little  Mistiss  wid  'er  ?  She  plenty  big  'nuff  fer 


74  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

dat.  Ef  she  'd  'a'  come,  little  Mistiss  would  V 
come;  you  know  dat  you'se'f.  Oh,  ef  I  don't 
pay  dat  nigger  gal  back  fer  de  ol'  and  de  new ! " 

"You'd  better  thank  the  Lord,  if  you  ever 
see  her  again,"  said  Sweetest  Susan's  distressed 
mother. 

"I'll  do  dat,  ma'am;  I'll  thank  'im  on  my 
bended  knee;  an'  fo'  I  git  it  onbent  good,  I'll 
lay  dat  gal  'crost  it ;  an'  when  I  git  done  wid 
'er,  she  won't  git  in  no  mo'  waggins  —  she  won't 
git  tuck  off  by  nobody,  not  twel  she 's  done  grown, 
er  atter  dey  done  put  me  on  de  coolin-board.  I 
may  not  know  how  ter  raise  childun,  but  I  know 
how  to  make  um  stan'  'roun'." 

All  this  time  Mrs.  Wyche  was  lying  upon  a  sofa 
in  a  state  of  collapse,  while  Jemimy,  more  vigor- 
ous (or  more  venomous,  as  she  would  have  put 
it),  was  walking  up  and  down  in  the  long  hallway, 
wringing  her  hands  and  groaning. 

Morning  came  on,  and  it  was  light  enough  to 
piit  out  the  candles,  but  they  were  left  burning. 
Presently  a  modest  ray  of  sunlight  crept  in  and 
played  upon  the  wall  opposite.  It  seemed  to  be 
a  signal,  for  the  moment  Mrs.  Wyche's  eyes  fell 
upon  it,  she  heard  a  sharp  knock  at  the  door. 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  75 

Jemimy  heard  it,  too,  and  ran  to  push  back  the 
thumb-bolt.  Quick  as  she  had  been,  Mrs.  Wyche 
was  by  her  side  as  she  opened  the  door.  Aaron 
was  standing  on  the  threshold.  Mrs.  Wyche  held 
her  breath  as  he  raised  his  hand,  and  Jemimy 
leaned  against  the  wall  with  a  moan. 

"  All  safe,  all  safe,  Mistiss.  They  're  comin' 
in  the  buggy."  To  Jemimy  he  said :  "  Get  break- 
fast —  get  breakfast !  they  're  all  hungry." 

"  Did  you  go  with  father  ?  "  Mrs.  Wyche  asked. 

"  Yes,  Mistiss." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  the  lady.  The  tone  of  her 
voice  was  full  of  the  liveliest  gratitude.  Aaron 
bent  his  head,  raised  his  hand,  and  was  gone  be- 
fore they  could  ask  any  particulars. 

Mrs.  Wyche  would  have  called  him  back,  but 
at  that  moment  she  heard  the  sound  of  buggy 
wheels,  and  she  knew  that  the  kidnapped  children 
had  arrived.  Before  she  could  dry  her  eyes, 
Sweetest  Susan  came  running  in  and  rushed  into 
her  mother's  arms  with  a  glad  cry ;  whereupon 
the  mother  felt  called  upon  to  weep  a  little  more ; 
though  the  tears  that  fell  now  were  far  different 
from  those  that  fell  in  the  dreary  watches  of  the 
night. 


76  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Brasilia  came  in  with  less  confidence.  She  was 
not  sure  of  her  reception.  "  Howdy,  mammy  ? 
Howdy,  Mistiss?"  she  said,  and  then  looked  at 
Jemimy. 

"  Come  yer,  gal !  "  said  Jemimy.  She  turned 
Drusilla  around  and  inspected  her  carefully. 
"  You  ain't  hurt  nowhar,  is  you  ?  " 

"  No'm !  "  exclaimed  Brasilia.  Then  another 
thought  struck  her.  "  Mammy,  did  you  cry  much 
kaze  I  was  done  losted  ?  " 

"  What  I  had  ter  cry  f er  ?  "  exclaimed  Jemimy. 

"Well,  ef  you'd  'a'  been  losted,  I'd  'a'  cried," 
remarked  Drusilla. 

At  this  Jemimy  broke  down.  "  Look  yer,  nig- 
ger !  You  better  stop  f  oolin'  wid  me.  De  nex' 
time  you  do  like  you  done  done,  I  'm  gwinter  kill 
you.  You  hear  dat  ?  " 

Whereupon  Jemimy  flouted  out  and  went  into 
the  kitchen,  where  she  went  about  breakfast  with 
surprising  energy,  talking  to  herself  all  the  time. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  keen  disappoint- 
ment of  Buster  John  when  he  came  down  to 
breakfast  and  learned  of  the  remarkable  events  of 
the  night.  He  was  disappointed,  first,  because  he 
had  not  been  kidnapped  with  the  rest ;  and,  sec- 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  77 

ond,  because  he  had  not  been  waked  to  join  in  the 
search.  He  had  an  idea  that  he  had  been  treated 
unfairly,  not  by  any  particular  person  or  persons, 
but  in  some  way.  It  was  just  his  luck,  he  said, 
to  be  left  out  when  anything  very  interesting  was 
going  to  happen.  He  recalled  the  day  he  re- 
mained at  home  from  school  on  some  slight  ex- 
cuse, and  a  pack  of  hounds  ran  a  gray  fox  right 
up  to  the  schoolhouse  door  and  caught  it  there ; 
and  a  little  later  the  same  day  the  boys  found  a 
partridge  nest  right  on  the  verge  of  the  play- 
ground, and  the  nest  had  seventeen  beautiful  eggs 
in  it.  There  were  other  occasions  that  he  remem- 
bered, and  he  said  to  himself  and  to  others  that  it 
was  pretty  hard  that  a  girl  should  be  having  such 
a  fine  time  while  he  was  asleep  in  bed. 

But  Sweetest  Susan  declared  that  it  was  n't  such 
a  fine  time  after  all.  She  was  asleep,  and  did  n't 
know  anything  about  it.  Nevertheless,  she  felt 
that  she  had  grown  in  importance  by  taking  part 
in  the  adventure,  and  she  put  on  some  of  those 
airs  which  are  very  cute  in  girls  of  her  age,  but 
which  are  —  well,  not  so  cute  in  grown  women. 

Buster  John  submitted  to  them  with  very  good 
grace,  considering  that  he  was  a  spirited  boy. 


78  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

He  knew  he  would  have  done  some  strutting 
himself  if  Sweetest  Susan's  adventures  had  been 
his.  As  it  was,  he  contented  himself  with  asser- 
tions as  to  what  he  would  have  done  had  he  been 
in  the  wagon.  He  might  have  gone  to  sleep  at 
first,  he  said,  but  just  as  sure  as  anything  he  would 
have  waked  when  the  wagon  jolted  over  a  rock 
or  a  lump  in  the  road,  and  then  —  well,  suffice  it 
to  say,  that  wagoner  would  have  found  himself  in 
deep  trouble.  Buster  John  would  have  pulled 
out  his  pistol  — 

"  Why,  you  have  n't  any  pistol ;  you  know  you 
have  n't,"  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Well,  I  'd  have  had  one  if  I  had  been  in  the 
wagon.  I  would  have  guessed  what  was  going  to 
happen." 

"How  come  you  didn't?"  inquired  Brasilia, 
at  this  point.  "  Why  n't  you  guess  we  wuz  gwine 
ter  drop  off  to  sleep  ?  An'  why  n't  you  stay  down 
dar  an'  wake  we-all  up  ?  I  don't  like  dish  yer 
kinder  guessin'  what  guesses  when  dey  ain't  no 
need  er  guessin'." 

But  Buster  John  insisted  that  he  would  have 
borrowed  his  grandfather's  pistol,  and  hid  himself 
in  the  wagon ;  and  when  they  came  to  some  dark 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  79 

and  lonely  spot  in  the  road,  then  and  there  he 
would  have  demanded  satisfaction. 

"  Huh !  He  'd  'a'  gi'  you  sati'faction !  "  ex- 
claimed Drusilla.  "He'd  'a'  grabbed  you  an* 
rolled  yo'  head  in  one  er  dem  blankets,  an'  ef  dat 
ain't  sati'fy  you,  he  'd  'a'  gi'  you  sump'n  else." 

"  That 's  all  you  know  about  pistols,"  said  Bus- 
ter John  imperiously. 

"No  needs  ter  know  'bout  pistols,"  replied 
Drusilla,  "when  you  know  'bout  folks.  Why, 
honey,  dat  ar  man  would  'a'  eat  you  up  ef  you  dez 
so  much  ez  bat  yo'  eye  at  'im.  Ain't  I  done  see 
de  way  he  chaw  vittles,  an'  how  he  talk  'long  wid 
hisse'f?" 

Nevertheless,  Buster  John  insisted  that  he 
would  have  rescued  the  captives  and  brought  them 
home  in  triumph. 

As  may  be  supposed,  the  strange  adventure  of 
Sweetest  Susan  and  Drusilla  afforded  a  subject 
for  a  great  deal  of  gossip  on  the  plantation  and 
in  the  surrounding  country,  and  the  children  them- 
selves passed  many  a  pleasant  hour  in  discussing 
it,  when  otherwise  they  would  have  been  very 
lonely.  Sweetest  Susan  often  thought  of  little 
Billy  Biscuit,  and  once,  when  talking  about  him 


80  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

to  her  mother,  she  mentioned  what  Miss  Elviry  had 
said  about  children's  cast-off  clothes.  Now,  as  it 
happened,  there  was  a  chestf  ul  of  clothes  some- 
where about  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Wyche  made 
haste  to  hunt  it  up  and  sort  out  as  much  as  might 
be  of  some  service  to  the  little  waif.  Then, 
woman-like,  having  her  mind  on  the  matter,  she 
insisted  that  the  clothes  must  be  sent  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  gave  orders  that  Johnny  Bapter 
should  carry  everything  the  next  morning. 

The  children,  hearing  of  this,  insisted  that  they 
be  ah1  owed  to  go  along,  and  as  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  (Sherman's  army  having  unwittingly 
dispersed  school  and  schoolmaster)  it  was  arranged 
that  Johnny  Bapter  should  use  the  spring  wagon, 
which  had  two  seats,  so  that  Buster  John,  Sweet- 
est Susan,  and  Drusilla  could  all  go  along.  And 
as  Johnny  Bapter  was  going  that  far,  he  might 
as  well  take  an  early  start  and  go  on  to  Harmony 
Grove,  to  carry  some  gifts  of  butter,  flour,  and 
other  supplies  to  an  old  friend  of  Mrs.  Wyche, 
whose  husband  was  in  the  army,  and  whose  sources 
of  maintenance  had  been  all  but  swept  away  by 
the  army  of  invasion. 

The  children   were  up  bright  and  early,  but 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  81 

they  found  Johnny  Bapter  and  the  wagon  wait- 
ing for  them.  There  was  not  much  delay  after 
that,  you  may  be  sure ;  only  a  little  wait  on 
Brasilia,  who  was  not  likely  to  allow  so  short  a 
journey  to  interfere  with  the  play  of  her  appetite. 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  went  out  to  the 
wagon  with  half  their  breakfast  in  their  hands. 
Johnny  Bapter  took  off  his  hat  to  them  very 
politely,  and  then,  when  they  were  seated  in  the 
wagon,  he  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  twice. 

"  You  're  mighty  polite  this  morning,  Johnny 
Bapter,"  said  Buster  John.  "  What 's  the  mat- 
ter with  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  fust  I  bow  ter  you-all,  an'  den  I  bow 
ter  dem  ar  waffles  an'  dat  ar  ham.  I  ain't  see  no 
waffles  in  so  long  dat  I  bleege  ter  bow  at  um. 
Dey  may  not  know  me,  but  I  knows  dem." 

That  settled  it,  of  course.  Johnny  Bapter 
knew  what  he  was  doing.  In  their  exuberant 
spirits  the  children  would  have  given  him  all 
their  waffles  and  ham,  but  no :  "I  ain't  no  ways 
greedy,"  said  Johnny  Bapter,  so  he  only  took 
two  thirds.  "  An'  de  waffles  got  butter  on  um  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "I'm  mighty  glad  you-all  tuck 
a  notion  to  go  'long.  Look  like  dey  ain't  been 


82  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

no  war  when  you  kin  git  a  tas'e  er  waffles.  Git 
up  dar,  boss !  what  you  holdin'  back  on  level 
groun'  fer,  when  you  know  I  'm  up  here  eatin' 
waffles  ?  Ef  anybody  ax  you-all  how  come  I 
don't  b'long  ter  no  church,  you  up  an'  tell  um 
dat  it 's  des  kaze  I  ain't  hear  none  er  de  preachers 
say  dey  gwinter  be  waffles  up  dar  whar  good  folks 
goes.  Ef  dey  '11  des  say  '  waffles,'  I  'm  wid  um, 
an'  I  '11  stay  wid  um,  too ;  don't  you  disremember 
dat  — 

'  Fer  John-nee  Bapiter  is  my  name  — 
You  ax  my  mammy,  she  '11  tell  you  de  same  ! ' " 

This  last  was  a  snatch  of  song  that  sounded 
sweetly  on  the  morning  air.  It  was  accompanied 
by  a  shaking  of  the  reins  that  set  the  horse  trot- 
ting at  the  top  of  his  speed.  In  a  very  short 
while,  as  it  seemed  to  the  children,  who  enjoyed 
the  ride,  they  were  at  Mr.  Bobs's,  where  they 
were  met  by  Miss  Elviry,  who  said  she  was  de- 
lighted to  see  them.  The  clothes  she  declared 
the  very  thing,  every  stitch  being  in  the  right 
place,  and  each  garment  certain  to  fit  to  a  t-wy-ty 
—  some  might  be  a  little  too  big  now,  at  the 
present  time,  but  they  wouldn't  stay  too  big 
many  days. 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  83 

"Somethin'  told  me  you-all  was  a-comin'  to- 
day. I  had  a  ringin'  in  my  right  ear,  an'  my 
nose  has  been  a-eetchin'  ever  sence  I  got  up  this 
mornin'.  I  know'd  I  was  certain  to  have  com- 
pany, and  who  could  it  be,  says  I  to  myself,  but 
the  youngsters  from  the  Abercrombie  place  ?  " 

"  How  is  Little  Billy  Biscuit  ?  "  asked  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  As  fine  as  split  silk,"  responded  Miss  Elviry 
with  a  fond  laugh  ;  "  as  fat  as  a  pig,  and  the 
cutest  thing  you  ever  laid  eyes  on.  Come  right 
in  ;  he  's  back  in  here  some'rs.  Billy  !  Billy 
Biscuit !  Where  are  you,  for  goodness'  sake  ?  " 

"  Here  me  !  "  replied  Billy. 

"  Come  here,"  said  Miss  Elviry  ;  "  here 's  some- 
body wants  to  see  you." 

"  Uh-uh  !  Me  tan't ;  me 's  a  moo-talf .  Moo- 
talf  in  de  pen  —  tan't  dit  out." 

When  Miss  Elviry  and  the  children  went  to  see 
what  Billy  was  up  to,  they  found  that  he  had 
turned  a  chair  on  its  side,  and  with  that  had 
penned  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Moo-talf  want  water,"  he  exclaimed.  Miss 
Elviry  would  have  given  him  some  from  the 
gourd,  but  he  protested  loudly.  "  N-o-o-o  !  Moo- 


84  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

talf  d'ink  out  de  pan,"  and  nothing  would  do  but 
he  must  have  a  pan  of  water.  From  this  he 
drank  as  he  had  seen  the  calf  drink. 

"  Did  anybody  ever  see  the  like  of  that  ? " 
exclaimed  Miss  Elviry  in  an  ecstacy  of  pride. 
"  They  ain't  narry  Another  child  in  the  world,  his 
age  and  inches,  half  as  smart  as  he  is." 

Billy  Biscuit  acted  as  if  he  thought  so  too. 
Inside  the  somewhat  narrow  limits  of  his  pen,  he 
walked  to  and  fro  on  his  all-fours,  as  if  trying  to 
show  himself  off. 

Now,  Miss  Elviry  could  say  nothing  on  behalf 
of  Billy  Biscuit's  accomplishments  that  Sweetest 
Susan  would  not  agree  to.  She  was  very  fond  of 
babies  and  young  children,  and  had  a  peculiar 
knack  of  entertaining  them.  She  felt,  too,  a 
special  interest  in  Billy  Biscuit,  having  been  the 
means  of  rescuing  him  from  that  unfortunate 
lunatic,  and  so  she  sat  on  the  floor  by  the  little 
fellow,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  they  were 
having  great  fun.  Especially  was  it  great  fun 
when  Drusilla  joined  them  and  solemnly  pre- 
tended to  have  a  fit.  Billy  Biscuit  laughed  until 
he  was  nearly  exhausted  at  Drusilla's  queer  antics, 
so  that,  finally,  Miss  Elviry  felt  compelled  to  beg 


A   WILD   BEAST  OF  THE   FOREST,   NAME  UNKNOWN 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  85 

her  not  to  be  so  funny.  Whereupon  Brasilia 
became  really  solemn.  Her  clownish  antics  were 
put  aside,  and  she  became  a  wild  beast  of  the 
forest,  name  unknown.  She  went  about  the  room 
on  hands  and  knees,  growling  and  making  strange 
noises  in  her  throat.  Those  were  thrilling  mo- 
ments for  Billy  Biscuit  when  this  wild  animal 
headed  in  his  direction,  and  he  would  rush  to  the 
protection  of  Sweetest  Susan  with  just  that  tinge 
and  taste  of  fear  that  gave  a  peculiar  zest  to  the 
play. 

As  for  Buster  John,  he  had  other  fish  to  fry, 
as  Miss  Elviry  said.  Lucky  for  him,  Mr.  Bobs 
had  cut  one  of  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand  the 
afternoon  before,  and  the  cut  had  developed  such 
soreness  that  he  was  taking  a  day  off.  Buster 
John,  in  looking  about  the  place,  which  was  a 
small  one  indeed,  but  very  interesting,  had  come 
upon  Mr.  Bobs  sitting  in  the  door  of  his  little 
workshop  smoking  his  clay  pipe  —  one  that  he 
had  made  himself,  for  he  was  a  very  ingenious 
man. 

"  Howdy,  Mr.  Bobs?"  said  Buster  John,  with 
as  much  politeness  as  a  small  boy  can  muster. 

"  Why,  howdy  ?  "  replied  Mr.  Bobbs.    «  You  're 


86  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

young  Abercrombie — no  —  Wyche.  Well,  't  ain't 
much  of  a  mistake  to  put  you  wi'  the  'Crombies. 
The  Wyche  in  you  don't  hurt  you.  You  're  a 
'Crombie  all  over,  ef  I  ever  seed  one,  an'  I  've 
seed  'em  all,  fust  an'  last." 

As  Mr.  Bobs  sat  looking  at  Buster  John,  he 
presented  a  very  picturesque  figure.  Though  the 
weather  was  a  trifle  chilly,  he  sat  without  his  coat, 
and  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt  were  rolled  up,  ex- 
posing half  of  his  brawny,  sunburnt  arms.  His 
wool  hat  sat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  showing  a 
high  forehead.  He  wore  a  full  beard  and  no 
moustache,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  with  both  humor 
and  shrewdness. 

"  What 's  this  I  hear  about  Mr.  Thimblefmger 
and  all  them  rigamaroles  ? "  he  asked,  after  a 
while. 

Buster  John  swelled  with  conscious  knowledge, 
but  he  did  not  commit  himself.  "  I  'm  sure  I 
don't  know,"  he  replied.  "  What  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  A  mighty  heap  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Bobs ; 
"  lots  more  than  I  can  take  time  to  relate." 

"  Who  told  you,  Mr.  Bobs  ?  "  Buster  John  was 
Very  cautious. 

"  Them  that  told  me  was  n't  tellin'  tales  out  of 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  87 

school.  But  fust  and  fo'most,  how  come  you  to 
know  Mr.  Thimblefinger  ?  " 

"  We  —  we  just  found  him,"  replied  Buster 
John. 

"  Ketched  him  out !  "  said  Mr.  Bobs,  laughing 
at  the  thought  of  such  a  thing.  "  I  allowed 
maybe  that  was  the  way  of  it.  Well,  you  an' 
your  little  Sis  is  mighty  lucky  chaps." 

"  Brasilia  was  with  us,"  Buster  John  explained. 

"  The  nigger  gal  ?  H'm  —  well,  yes  —  I  reckon 
so,"  remarked  Mr.  Bobs  with  a  frown.  "  Well, 
maybe  white  folk '11  have  a  breathin'  spell  now 
that  the  whole  kit  and  bilin'  is  free." 

Mr.  Bobs's  prejudice  made  no  impression  on 
Buster  John.  "  What  has  become  of  Little  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  I  asked  Aaron, 
but  he  only  shook  his  head." 

"  He  ain't  no  nigger,  I  '11  be  boun',"  suggested 
Mr.  Bobs. 

"  Who  ?     Aaron  ?     He  's  an  Arab." 

"I  hear  tell,"  remarked  Mr.  Bobbs,  "that 
away  back  yander,  the  Arabs  was  a  right  sight 
pearter  than  our  folks.  They  know'd  all  about 
physic  and  algeber,  an'  things  like  that.  Now, 
I  reckin  you  think  that  Aaron  is  e'en  about  the 


88  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

smartest  man  in  the  world.  Come,  now  !  Don't 
you?  Hey?" 

Buster  John  reflected  awhile,  and  then  replied : 
"Not  the  smartest  man  in  the  world." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  you  've  got  the  idee  strong  in 
your  mind  that  he 's  a  heap  the  smartest  man  any- 
where in  these  diggin's :  now,  hain't  you  ?  "  per- 
sisted Mr.  Bobs. 

Buster  John  did  not  assent  to  this  in  so  many 
words,  but  his  tone  and  manner  left  no  doubt  on 
Mr.  Bobs's  mind  that  the  youngster  had  very 
extreme  opinions  as  to  Aaron's  gifts. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Mr.  Bobs.  "  You  're 
young  yit,  an'  you  hain't  traveled  much  the  wide 
world  all  over.  To-day's  e'en  about  the  fust 
time  you  've  been  to  our  house  sence  you  weighed 
a  pound  more  than  a  'possum.  I  want  to  show 
you  a  thing  or  two.  You  've  got  the  idee,  an' 
your  Sis,  too,  I  reckon,  that  Aaron  knows  it  all. 
Ef  you  '11  call  her  out,  I  '11  show  you  that  Aaron 
don't  know  more  than  half  of  the  things  that 
mought  be  know'd." 

Buster  John  called  Sweetest  Susan,  and  she 
came  running  out,  followed  by  Drusilla. 

"  Stand  a  little  furder  back,"  said  Mr.  Bobs, 


"HE'S   GOING  TO  SHOW   US   SOMETHING ' 


A    VISIT  TO  BILLY  BISCUIT.  89 

motioning  with  his  hands ;  "  a  little  f  urder  yit ; 
now,  that  '11  do.     Keep  your  eyes  open." 

There  was  no  need  for  that  suggestion.  "  He  's 
going  to  show  us  something,"  Buster  John  ex- 
plained, and  then  the  children  stood  still  and 
watched,  hardly  drawing  breath. 


VI. 

MR.    BOBS   AND    HIS   BUBBLE. 

THE  children  stood  watching  Mr.  Bobs  atten- 
tively, their  attitude  betraying  their  curiosity  and 
doubt.  They  were  anxious  to  see  how  Mr.  Bobs 
could  convince  them  that  there  were  smarter  men 
than  Aaron  in  that  neighborhood,  and  doubtful 
of  his  ability  to  do  so.  It  was  plain  that  Mr. 
Bobs  himself  did  not  share  their  doubts.  He  was 
in  no  hurry,  and  yet  there  was  no  delay  in  his 
movements ;  he  was  slow  but  methodical.  He 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  carefully 
cleaned  it  out  with  his  pocket  knife,  blowing 
through  the  stem  to  clear  away  all  particles  of  to- 
bacco. This  done,  he  laid  the  pipe  carefully  on 
the  step  beside  him,  reached  into  the  room  behind 
him,  and  drew  forth  a  wash-pan  that  seemed  to  be 
a  little  more  than  half  full  of  soapy  water.  There 
was  also  in  the  pan  a  small  wooden  paddle.  With 
this  Mr.  Bobs  whipped .  the  soapy  water  gently, 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  91 

and  the  children  noticed  that  instead  of  breaking 
into  a  foamy  mass  of  bubbles,  as  soapy  water  does, 
three  or  four  large  bubbles  appeared. 

This  result  seemed  to  be  unsatisfactory  to  Mr. 
Bobs.  He  drew  forth  from  an  inside  pocket  of 
his  coat  a  large  leather  or  morocco  pocketbook, 
and  began  to  search  through  its  various  compart- 
ments. He  finally  found  what  he  was  searching 
for  —  a  little  paper  packet,  wrapped  round  and 
round  with  many  yards  of  white  sewing  thread. 
This  thread  Mr.  Bobs  unwound  very  carefully. 
Then,  unfolding  the  paper,  he  took  therefrom  the 
merest  pinch  of  white  powder,  and  flirted  it  into 
the  pan  of  water  from  his  fingers. 

"  I  reckon  you  '11  work  now,  plague  on  you !  " 
he  exclaimed.  \ 

At  this  juncture  Miss  Elviry  came  out,  wonder- 
ing what  the  children  were  doing.  Watching  the 
manipulations  of  her  brother,  she  laughed  un- 
easily, saying  :  "  You  may  thank  your  stars  there 
ain't  no  law  agin  witchcraft  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  That 's  all  that  keeps  'em  from  stringin* 
you  up." 

"  Where 's  any  witchcraft  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Bobs 
indignantly.  "I'm  jest  a-showin'  these  young- 


92  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

sters  a  trick  that  I  larnt  from  that  thar  gypsy 
'oman  —  the  one  that  kyored  your  rheumatiz." 

"  Well,"  remarked  Miss  Elviry,  "  when  folks  do 
somethin'  new  an'  quare,  they  allers  fly  back  to 
conjuration  to  account  fer  it." 

"  I  don't  keer  where  they  fly,"  said  Mr.  Bobs, 
"  so  long  as  they  don't  fly  at  me." 

And,  as  if  to  show  that  he  really  did  n't  care, 
he  seized  the  wooden  paddle  and  began  to  whip 
the  water  again.  This  time  all  the  bubbles  dis- 
appeared save  one,  and  the  more  Mr.  Bobs  whipped 
the  water  the  larger  it  grew.  Presently  he  placed 
the  pan  on  a  large  block  —  the  butt-cut  of  a  pop- 
lar tree  which  served  sometimes  as  a  table  and 
sometimes  as  the  work-bench  —  and  continued  to 
whip  the  water,  the  bubble  growing  larger  and 
larger  all  the  while.  Occasionally  he  poked  his 
paddle  into  the  bubble  and  withdrew  it  quickly, 
as  if  to  test  its  consistency.  The  children  could 
see  the  paddle  go  into  the  bubble  and  see  it  come 
out,  but  the  bubble  itself  remained  intact,  and 
continued  to  expand. 

"  You  see  dat,  don't  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Drusilla. 
The  bubble  was  now  as  tall  as  the  tallest  of  the 
children,  and  large  around  in  proportion. 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  93 

Mr.  Bobs  took  his  pipe,  inserted  it  in  the  bub- 
ble at  the  edge  of  the  pan,  and  began  to  blow 
with  all  his  might.  This  he  did  at  short  intervals 
until  all  the  water  in  the  pan  seemed  to  be  ex- 
hausted. Then,  with  the  stem  of  the  pipe  still  in 
his  mouth,  he  took  the  paddle  and  carefully 
scraped  the  bubble  from  the  edge  of  the  pan,  and 
by  a  deft  motion  of  his  hand,  removed  the  bubble 
entirely. 

This  was  certainly  a  sight  for  the  children  to 
see  —  a  bubble  as  high  and  as  big  as  a  small 
house,  swaying  gently  in  the  sunlight,  and  show- 
ing forth  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  It  was 
very  wonderful,  indeed,  and  Sweetest  Susan  was 
quick  to  declare  that  she  had  never  before  seen 
anything  so  beautiful. 

Mr.  Bobs  seemed  to  be  very  much  gratified  at 
this.  "  'T  ain't  the  best  I  can  do,"  he  explained. 
"  I  'd  have  to  make  a  dozen  or  more  before  I  got 
my  hand  in.  But  this  un  is  good  enough.  Ef 
you  find  anybody  'round  here  what  can  build  a 
bubble  that  won't  bust  ner  float  off,  why,  jest  ax 
'em  to  do  it,  that 's  all.  No,"  he  declared,  "  that 
ain't  all,  nuther." 

He  took  a  small  leaf  and  laid  it  on  the  side  of 


94  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

the  bubble.  Instantly  it  began  to  rotate  and 
travel  in  a  small  circle,  drawing  after  it,  as  it 
seemed,  the  most  beautiful  shades  of  green,  and 
gold,  and  purple.  It  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  the 
centre  of  an  iridescent  whirlpool,  and  the  children 
stood  gazing  at  it  with  open  mouths  and  eyes. 

The  glistening  colors  appealed  strongly  to  Dru- 
silla.  "  Ef  you  could  hear  brass  bands  a-playin'," 
she  exclaimed,  "  dis  would  n't  lack  much  er  bein' 
a  whole  circus." 

Mr.  Bobs  walked  around  the  bubble  and  exam- 
ined it  critically,  smoothing  it  with  his  wooden 
paddle. 

"  I  'm  jest  a-feelin'  'round  fer  to  find  whar  the 
door  is,"  he  explained.  Apparently  he  soon  found 
it,  for  he  spoke  to  Buster  John.  "  Come  on,"  he 
said,  "jump  right  in."  The  youngster  hesitated 
for  an  instant,  but  his  surroundings  gave  him  as- 
surance. "  Walk  right  in,"  Mr.  Bobs  insisted, 
and  gave  a  quick  flirt  with  the  paddle  as  Buster 
John  touched  the  bubble  —  a  quick  flirt  with  the 
paddle,  and  Sweetest  Susan  and  Drusilla  saw  Bus- 
ter John  disappear,  swallowed  up,  as  it  were,  by 
the  bubble. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mr.  Bobs,  waving  his  paddle 


IT  WAS  VERY  WONDERFUL 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  95 

on  high,  "  come  on,  an'  in  wi'  you  !  There, 
plunge  right  in  !  " 

Sweetest  Susan  went  forward  timidly.  "  Is  it 
going  to  fly  away  with  us,  Mr.  Bobs  ?  "  she  asked. 
She  had  already  experienced  one  adventure  that 
•was  not  pleasing  to  think  of. 

"  Why,  what  idees  you  've  got,  honey  !  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Bobs.  "  How  can  a  bubble  fly  away 
with  you  children  on  the  inside  ?  You  might  as 
well  ax  me  ef  a  crow  can  fly  away  wi'  a  bale  of 
cotton." 

"  But  this  bubble  is  different  from  other  bub- 
bles," suggested  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  It  is ;  it  shore  is,"  assented  Mr.  Bobs ;  "  it 
shore  is,  fer  I  made  it  myself.  But  in  wi'  you  ; 
don't  let  your  buddy  git  lonesome." 

Sweetest  Susan  was  still  a  little  afraid,  but  she 
went  forward  all  the  same,  and  the  bubble  seemed 
to  swallow  her  just  as  it  had  swallowed  Buster 
John. 

Mr.  Bobs  now  turned  to  Drusilla.  "  Come  on, 
ef  you  're  a-comin'." 

"I  ain't  bleedge  ter  go  in  dar,  is  I?"  she 
asked. 

"  Go  in,  or  stay  out ;  it 's  all  one  to  me.     Come ! 


96  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Talk  out !  Which  is  it?  It'll  do  you  no  good 
to  go  in,  ner  no  harm,  nuther." 

Brasilia  hesitated  a  moment,  just  a  moment, 
and  then  she  went  to  the  bubble.  "  I  don't  want 
none  er  dat  ar  soap-suds  ter  git  in  my  eyes,"  she 
remarked  with  a  shiver. 

"  Shet  your  eyes,  then,"  said  Mr.  Bobs. 

Brasilia  did  more  than  that ;  she  held  her 
breath.  Then,  with  a  whiff  of  dampness  on  her 
face,  she  found  herself  inside  the  bubble.  She 
turned  to  see  where  and  how  she  had  come  in,  but 
she  was  so  surprised  at  the  view  that  presented 
itself,  that  she  fairly  gasped  with  astonishment. 
Away  off  in  the  distance  she  could  see  somebody 
that  resembled  Mr.  Bobs,  but  he  seemed  to  be 
hanging  in  the  air,  heels  upward.  Not  far  from 
him  was  his  house ;  and  that,  too,  was  upside  down. 
By  some  curious  freak  of  perspective,  the  house 
and  its  surroundings,  including  Mr.  Bobs,  pre- 
sented a  picture  not  larger  than  your  thumbnail. 

"  I  did  n't  know  I  wuz  sech  a  mighty  jumper," 
said  Brasilia  to  herself. 

Then  she  looked  around  for  Buster  John  and 
Sweetest  Susan,  and  saw  them  some  distance  away. 
They  were  evidently  as  much  puzzled  as  she  was. 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  97 

The  bubble  no  longer  seemed  to  be  a  bubble. 
Viewed  from  tbe  outside,  it  had  appeared  to  be 
no  larger  than  a  small  house.  In  the  inside,  how- 
ever, as  Drusilla  remarked,  it  was  as  big  as  all  out- 
doors. They  walked  about  timidly  at  first,  for 
fear  of  breaking  the  bubble,  but  they  soon  forgot 
all  about  their  precaution.  They  seemed  to  be  in 
a  wide  and  perfectly  level  field  —  a  field  with  a 
shining  floor.  Over  this  floor  the  many-hued 
colors  of  the  rainbow  chased  one  another  inces- 
santly, wriggling,  twisting,  whirling.  The  chil- 
dren watched  this  display  until  Drusilla  made  a 
remark  that  had  astonishing  results. 

"I  know  whar  we  at,"  she  said;  "dish  yer 
place  is  whar  dey-make  rainbows.  You  kin  see 
um  plattin'  um  now." 

At  this  both  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan 
laughed  aloud ;  whereupon  the  rainbow  colors 
seemed  to  be  shattered  into  thousands  of  frag- 
ments, and  they  ran  about  on  the  floor,  shaken 
into  all  sorts  of  disturbed  states.  Almost  as  cu- 
rious as  this  spectacle  were  the  wonderful  echoes 
that  took  up  the  sound  of  the  children's  laughter, 
carrying  it  away  and  bringing  it  back  again  in  a 
greater  volume.  A  thousand  children  seemed  to 


98  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

be  laughing,  sometimes  close  at  hand,  and  then 
far  away. 

Brasilia  was  alarmed.  "I  done  tol'  you-all 
'bout  puttin'  yo'  heads  in  all  kinder  holes  an* 
traps,"  she  said  under  her  breath.  "You  may 
call  dis  a  bubble  ef  you  wanter ;  but  't  ain't  no 
mo'  a  bubble  dan  I  'm  a  bubble.  Look  over  yo' 
head  ;  does  you  see  any  bubble-skin,  er  frame,  er 
hide,  er  whatsomever  you  may  call  it  ?  No,  you 
don't.  'Stidder  dat,  you  see  two  suns  a-shinin*. 
I  done  promise  myse'f  when  we  went  und'  dat 
spring  dat  I  wa'n't  gwine  ter  let  you  drag  me  in 
no  mo'  places.  An'  yit,  here  I  is  !  You  done 
drag  me  in  here,  an'  now  you  got  ter  drag  me 
out  —  ef  I  ever  is  ter  git  out." 

"  Why,  there  's  nothing  to  do  but  to  break  the 
bubble,"  Buster  John  stoutly  asserted. 

"  Show  me  whar  dey  's  any  bubble,"  cried  Bra- 
silia. "  You  don't  see  none,  an'  I  don't  see  none. 
We  're  in  a  rainbow  fact'ry,  an'  we  better  git  out 
fo'  it  thunders." 

Brasilia's  considerations  led  the  children  to  look 
around  them  more  carefully  than  they  had  done ; 
and  even  Buster  John  was  compelled  to  admit 
that  he  could  see  nothing  like  the  walls  of  a  bub- 
ble, if  walls  they  may  be  called. 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  99 

One  fact  that  disturbed  them  more  than  any 
other,  was  that  they  could  see  no  horizon  line. 
The  horizon  exists  only  in  the  imagination,  but  it 
plays  a  very  important  part  in  our  actual  experi- 
ence. It  provides  a  boundary,  a  limit.  But  it 
was  absent  now,  and  its  absence,  together  with 
the  fact  that  two  separate  and  distinct  suns  ap- 
peared to  be  shining  overhead,  gave  a  weird  as- 
pect to  this  new  landscape,  or,  to  be  more  exact, 
the  bubble-scape.  And  while  the  shimmering, 
seething,  whirling,  rainbow  colors  were  beautiful 
to  behold,  they  began  to  add  to  the  confusion 
after  a  while. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Drusilla  sneezed,  not 
once,  but  twice.  She  tried  hard  to  keep  the 
sneezes  back,  to  "  hoi'  um  in,"  as  she  said,  but 
they  had  to  come,  and  when  they  did  come,  they 
seemed  to  shake  the  foundation  of  things,  and  the 
sound  of  ten  thousand  sneezes  was  heard  in  the 
air.  The  two  suns  overhead  reeled  and  shook 
and  whirled  about  each  other,  and  the  colors 
whirled  in  the  floor  till  they  lost  all  semblance  of 
proportion. 

And  then,  while  waiting  for  this  devastation  to 
stop  itself,  the  children  saw  a  little  woman  come 


100  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

gliding  toward  them,  followed  by  a  swarm  of 
smaller  figures. 

"  We  're  gone  now  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla  excit- 
edly. "  We  done  stirred  um  up.  We  better 
make  a  break  an'  git  out  er  here  'fo'  dey  jump  on 
us  an'  git  us  down." 

But  somehow,  neither  Buster  John  nor  Sweet- 
est Susan  was  frightened.  There  was  nothing 
alarming  about  these  little  people  —  if  people  they 
were.  The  little  woman,  who  seemed  to  be  the 
leader,  was  not  ugly  at  all.  If  she  had  been  an 
old  crone  with  a  yellow  tooth,  the  children  might 
have  felt  some  uneasiness,  but  her  appearance  was 
very  pleasing,  although  she  seemed  to  be  some- 
what weary.  And  all  the  smaller  ones  that  came 
after  her  seemed  to  be  solemn  and  weary.  But 
they  were  not  too  weary  to  form  themselves  in  a 
ring,  of  which  the  children  were  the  centre,  and 
go  marching  around,  singing  a  song  of  complaint. 
Their  voices  were  not  strong,  and  it  was  all  the 
children  could  do  to  catch  a  few  of  the  words  of 
the  song.  A  part  of  it  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  If  you  stay  awake  while  you  sleep, 

You  will  find  that  the  whole  is  n't  half: 
You  will  find  it  is  funny  to  weep, 
And  awfully  solemn  to  laugh. 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  101 

Oh,  hear  our  cause  of  complaint  — 

It  't  is,  it  't  was,  and  it  't  ain't ! " 

"  I  tell  you  dey  got  us ! "  said  Brasilia  in  a 
low  tone.  "  Bey  ain't  no  sense  in  what  dey 
singin'.  Dey  er  all  ravin'  crazy.  Look  at  um, 
how  dey  waggle  der  heads  an'  wobble  'bout  when 
dey  walk  !  Dey  sho  is  got  us  !  " 

When  the  song,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  was 
done,  the  little  woman  came  towards  the  children. 
Her  attitude  was  not  threatening,  but  Drusilla 
made  haste  to  get  behind  her  companions. 

"You  don't  seem  to  know  me,"  the  little 
woman  said. 

"  No,  we  don't.  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

"  I  'm  the  Queen  of  Dreams,"  replied  the  other. 

"Are  we  dreaming  now?"  Buster  John  asked 
somewhat  bluntly. 

"How  could  that  be?"  said  the  Queen  of 
Dreams.  "  You  are  not  asleep  ;  and  we  are  only 
here  because  of  a  hideous  noise  we  heard.  We 
were  asleep.  Do  you  think  we  should  be  dis- 
turbed in  our  own  kingdom  ?  We  can't  help  our- 
selves at  this  moment,  but  do  you  think  it  is  right 
to  invade  our  territory  ?  " 


102  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"What  she  talkin'  'bout?"  asked  Drusilla  in 
a  whisper.  "  Who  been  'vadin'  any  ter'ytory?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Bobs  made  this  bubble  for  us," 
Buster  John  explained. 

The  Queen  of  Dreams  seemed  to  be  puzzled. 
"  What  is  a  bubble  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  a  bubble  —  a  bubble  is  —  well,  a  bubble 
is  a  piece  of  soap-suds  into  which  air  has  been 
blown,"  replied  Sweetest  Susan,  somewhat  doubt- 
fully. 

"  How  big  a  piece,  and  how  much  air  is  neces- 
sary to  make  a  bubble?  "  inquired  the  Queen  of 
Dreams. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  responded  Sweetest 
Susan.  "  Bubbles  are  of  all  sizes ;  but  this  one 
is  the  largest  I  ever  saw." 

"  Which  one  ?  "  The  Queen  of  Dreams  was  a 
very  persistent  seeker  after  information. 

"The  bubble  we  are  in  now,"  explained  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

The  Queen  of  Dreams  shook  her  head  and 
frowned  slightly.  At  this  Drusilla  nudged  Bus- 
ter John,  and  remarked  in  a  whisper :  "  I  done 
tol'  you  we  ain't  got  no  business  in  here  —  ef 
we  is  in  here.  Dem  ar  creeturs  '11  sho  do  us 
damage." 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  103 

But  the  Queen  of  Dreams  was  not  angry ;  she 
was  only  puzzled.  In  a  little  while  she  tried  to 
make  herself  very  pleasant.  She  seemed  to  be 
very  proud  of  her  subjects.  She  paraded  them 
before  the  children,  and  called  off  their  names. 
There  were  Mince  Pie  Dream,  and  his  twin 
brother,  Fruit  Cake  Dream,  and  Muffin  and  Waf- 
fles, and  Green  Apple  Dreams,  and  ever  so  many 
more.  While  the  Queen  of  Dreams  was  describ- 
ing the  beauties  of  her  dyspeptic  subjects,  Drusilla 
saw  coming  toward  them  the  most  horrible-looking 
object  imaginable.  She  tried  to  warn  the  others, 
but  she  could  n't  speak.  She  could  only  point 
her  finger  and  nod  her  head.  The  creature 
seemed  to  be  as  big  around  the  body  as  a  horse. 
Its  forelegs  were  short,  while  its  hind  legs  were 
long,  so  that  in  crawling  along  the  ground  as  it 
was  now  doing,  it  seemed  to  be  crouching  as  if 
ready  to  spring.  It  had  two  tails  longer  than  an 
alligator's  body,  and  its  head  was  as  big  as  a 
barrel  and  shaped  something  like  that  of  a  hippo- 
potamus. But  its  ears  were  long  as  those  of  a 
mule  ;  its  eyes  were  large  and  green,  and,  when 
it  gaped,  the  inside  of  its  mouth  was  as  red  as  red 
flannel. 


104  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Seeing  the  children  huddled  together  in  a 
stupefying  fright,  the  Queen  of  Dreams  told  them 
they  had  nothing  to  fear.  "  It 's  nobody  but 
poor  old  Nightmare.  He  was  out  all  last  night, 
and  worked  hard  at  his  business.  He  should  be 
resting  now,  but  the  poor  thing  gets  lonely  when 
he  opens  one  eye  and  finds  us  gone.  He  's  a 
great  pet  of  mine.  Come,  tickle  his  ear,  and  see 
him  open  his  mouth  and  growl." 

At  this  Brasilia  turned  and  ran,  and  the  chil- 
dren after  her,  and  the  next  moment  they  were 
standing,  panting  for  breath,  close  to  Mr.  Bobs, 
who  was  calmly  sharpening  his  tools  on  an  oil 
stone. 

"  I  clean  forgot  to  tell  you  not  to  stay  in  there 
too  long,"  he  remarked.  "  Folks  must  have  fresh 
air,  and  you  can't  git  that  in  a  bubble.  But  ef 
you  say  the  word,  I  '11  blow  you  up  a  bigger  one, 
and  you  can  stay  in  it  longer." 

But  the  children  shook  their  heads  and  thanked 
him.  They  did  n't  want  any  more  bubbles  that 
day. 

"  You  better  le'  me  make  you  a  good  big  un," 
Mr.  Bobs  insisted.  "I  'most  know  the  nigger 
gal  there  would  like  to  git  in  a  great  big  un." 


DRUSILLA   TURNED  AND   RAN,  AND   THE   CHILDREN   AFTER 
HER 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  105 

"  Humph !  You  don't  know  me,  den/'  said 
Drusilla  with  some  bluntness.  "  Dem  what  likes 
bubbles  can  git  in  urn  an'  stay  in  um  f  er  what  I 
keer.  All  I  'm  skeered  un  is  dat  I  '11  git  in  um  in 
my  dreams.  Ef  I  does,  eve'y  hair  in  my  haid  '11 
be  gray  de  nex'  time  you  see  me." 

At  this  Mr.  Bobs  fell  to  laughing,  and  he 
laughed  so  long  and  so  loudly  that  Miss  Elviry 
came  to  the  door  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 

"  Why,  what  in  the  world !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  'm  jest  laughin'  at  that  gal  there,"  Mr. 
Bobs  explained,  when  he  could  control  himself. 
"  She  went  into  the  bubble  along  wi'  the  others." 

"  Why  will  you  go  on  that  away  ?  An'  at 
your  age,  too.  It 's  a  plum'  shame  !  "  exclaimed 
his  sister. 

"  Why,  Elviry,  ten  year  from  now  these  young* 
sters  would  n't  take  a  hundred  dollars  for  what 
they  've  saw  to-day." 

And  no  doubt  this  was  true,  so  far  as  Buster 
John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  concerned;  but 
with  Drusilla  it  was  different.  For  many  months 
she  was  filled  with  indignation  toward  Mr.  Bobs, 
and  it  was  many  months  more  before  she  could 
be  induced  to  go  out  of  the  house  alone  at  night. 


106  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Even  then  she  would  say,  "  Ef  you  want  me  ter 
go,  you  better  gi'  me  a  bottle  er  some  kinder 
med'cine,  kaze  ef  I  meet  dat  Thing  out  dar,  I  '11 
have  ten  fits  'fo'  you  kin  ax  me  what  de  matter." 

If  the  children  were  not  willing  to  say  that  Mr. 
Bobs  was  a  smarter  man  than  Aaron,  they  were, 
at  any  rate,  willing  to  admit  that  he  had  given 
them  something  to  talk  about.  Drusilla,  how- 
ever, refused  to  admit  that  there  was  any  merit 
in  that. 

"  Ef  dat  ol'  white  man  '11  gi'  me  sump'n  dat  '11 
wipe  all  dat  out  'n  my  min'  an'  make  me  f ergit 
'bout  him  an'  his  bubble,  I  '11  say  anywhar  dat 
he  de  smartest  man  in  de  worl' ;  but  whar  is 
dey  any  smartness  in  skeerin'  chillun  out'n  der 
growth  ?  Ez  I  is  now,  des  so  you  '11  see  me  when 
I  'm  seventy  year  ol'.  Ef  gittin'  skeer'd  '11  stunt 
folks,  den  I  'm  done  stunted,  an'  stunted  bad." 

"  Maybe  we  were  dreaming,"  Sweetest  Susan 
suggested  when  Drusilla  made  this  remark. 

"Dream  nothin'  !  "  Drusilla  retorted.  "How 
kin  folks  stan'  flat-footed  in  de  broad  open  day- 
light, an'  have  'zactly  de  same  dream  ?  Nobody 
ain't  never  see  no  creetur  like  dat,  in  no  dream, 
kaze  ef  dey  did,  folks  ud  set  up  an'  hire  some- 


MR.  BOBS  AND  HIS  BUBBLE.  107 

body  fer  ter  keep  um  'wake.  You-all  do  mighty 
funny.  Wuz  you  too  skeered  ter  look  at  de  cree- 
tur?  Here's  what  uz  des  skeer'd  'nough  ter 
look  at  it  good.  You  call  dat  dreamin',  does 
you?" 

The  truth  is,  the  whole  affair  had  been  so 
unusual,  so  unexpected  and  unique,  that  it  took 
its  place  in  Sweetest  Susan's  mind,  as  well  as  in 
Buster  John's,  as  a  sort  of  waking  dream.  But 
Drusilla  had  seen  what  she  had  seen,  and  to  use 
her  own  expression,  she  had  looked  at  it  mighty 
hard. 

Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  very  shy 
in  telling  their  experiences  in  the  bubble  to  their 
elders.  They  had  been  laughed  at  on  other  occa- 
sions when  giving  hints  as  to  what  they  had  seen 
in  the  country  next  door  to  the  world,  and  that 
fact  made  them  somewhat  doubtful  and  timid. 
As  for  Drusilla,  she  had  in  the  negroes  an  audi- 
ence ready  to  welcome  any  statement,  no  matter 
how  wonderful.  Words  were  unable  to  convey 
to  their  minds  a  real  comprehension  of  what 
Drusilla  had  seen,  but  they  knew  it  was  some- 
thing awful,  and  from  that  time  forward  they  and 
all  the  negroes  for  miles  around  regarded  Mr. 


108  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Bobs  and  his  sister  as  conjurers  in  active  practice. 
In  a  way,  this  notoriety  helped  Mr.  Bobs,  for  no 
negro  refused  to  work  for  him  when  requested. 
But  no  negro  would  remain  near  his  house  at 
night.  This,  however,  did  not  grieve  him  to  any 
great  extent. 


vn. 

A    TALK    ABOUT    FOX    HUNTING. 

In  the  South,  December  is  usually  marked  by 
very  fair  weather,  the  mornings  cool  and  crisp, 
and  the  afternoons  warm  and  balmy  enough  to 
invite  the  mocking-birds  to  sing.  The  December 
following  Sherman's  march  to  the  sea  was  no 
exception,  and  as  the  holiday  season  drew  near, 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  heard  hints 
to  the  effect  that  some  of  their  grandfather's 
kinsmen  and  friends  intended  to  assemble  at 
the  Abercrombie  place  and  indulge  in  an  old- 
fashioned  fox  hunt.  It  might  be  thought  that 
all  the  able-bodied  men  of  the  region  were  fight- 
ing ;  but  war  is  never  so  exacting  that  it  sweeps 
everybody  into  the  ranks,  and  there  were  many 
men  exempted  from  conscription  either  by  their 
occupation  or  by  their  age. 

The  news  of  the  fox  hunt  was  not  particularly 
interesting  to  Sweetest  Susan,  but  Buster  John 


110  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

was  stirred  by  it.  He  wondered  why  it  was  that 
he  should  be  too  young  to  go  fox  hunting ;  and 
the  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  stronger  grew 
the  conviction  that  youth  is  a  hardship  invented 
to  punish  children.  His  views  in  that  respect 
underwent  a  great  change  some  years  later,  but 
at  that  particular  time,  he  was  quite  sure  that 
youth  was  something  that  had  to  be  endured, 
only  because  there  was  no  help  for  it.  His  mind 
was  full  of  fox  hunting,  and  he  sought  informa- 
tion on  the  matter  whenever  it  was  to  be  found. 
Old  Fountain  was  an  authority  on  the  subject,  so 
Buster  John  was  told,  and  the  youngster  lost  no 
time  in  questioning  the  negro. 

"  Uncle  Fountain,"  he  said  on  the  first  occa- 
sion that  presented  itself,  "they  say  there's 
going  to  be  a  big  fox  hunt  here  Christmas 
week." 

"  I  hear  um  sesso,"  replied  Fountain.  "  Well, 
let  um  hunt  ef  dey  will;  I  done  had  my  day  at 
dat,  I  'speck.  Dey  use  ter  hunt  fum  here  a  right 
smart;  an'  when  dey  got  in  de  notion,  nobody 
could  n't  do  nothin'  fer  um  but  Fountain.  'T  wuz 
'  Fountain  '  here  and  '  Fountain '  dar,  twel  some 
er  de  quality,  new  ter  de  place,  would  up  an'  ax 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING  111 

ef  all  de  niggers  on  de  plantation  is  name  Foun- 
tain. Yes  —  yes,  suh  —  I  see  myse'f  now  havin* 
de  mommuck  made  fer  de  dogs,  corn  meal  stewed 
thick,  wid  a  han'ful  er  cracklin's  flung  in  ;  an* 
den  de  nex'  mornin',  'fo'  day,  de  cry  would  be 
fer  Fountain  ;  an'  nothin'  would  do,  but  Fountain 
mus'  straddle  a  mule  —  ol'  Puss,  de  pacin'  mule  — 
an'  go  'long  wid  ran.  I  had  lim's  in  dem  days, 
an'  lungs,  ef  you  '11  believe  me.  Yes  —  yes,  suh 
—  I  wuz  soople  f um  de  word  go  —  work  all  day, 
an'  frolic  all  night." 

"  Dat  's  so,"  said  Big  Sal,  lifting  her  sad  face 
and  looking  at  the  children. 

"  I  'member  one  time,"  Fountain  continued, 
"  dat  I  went  'long  fer  ter  look  atter  de  Little 
Marster "  —  he  paused  and  began  to  pick  at  a 
patched  place  on  his  knee,  and  Big  Sal  drew  a 
long  breath.  "  Now,  dar  wuz  a  chap  fer  you  !  " 
he  exclaimed  enthusiastically.  "  Dey  say  he  died 
kaze  he  wuz  puny ;  but  don't  you  b'lieve  it ;  he 
died  kaze  his  heart  an'  his  head  wuz  too  big. 
Dey  tuck  in  all  dat  he  yever  seed,  er  heard,  er 
dre'mpt  'bout.  No  human  bein'  could  go  thoo 
life  wid  dat  kinder  head  an'  heart ;  it 's  agin' 
natur'." 


112  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Dat  's  de  Lord's  trufe  !  "  cried  Big  Sal. 

The  children  knew,  of  course,  that  the  refer- 
ence was  to  Little  Crotchet,  dead  long  ago,  and 
so  they  sat  silent  and  thoughtful. 

"Yes — yes,  suh  —  I  'member  de  time  des  ez 
well  es  ef  't  wuz  yistiddy,  maybe  better.  We  put 
out,  we  did,  'bout  light ;  an'  'f o'  we  went  a  mile 
up  jumped  a  gray  —  de  reds  had  n't  come  in  den 
—  an'  here  dey  had  it  'roun'  an'  'roun'  same  ez 
chasin'  a  rabbit.  I  wuz  ter  take  keer  er  de  Little 
Marster,  but  bless  yo'  soul !  he  ain't  gi'  me  time 
ter  do  dat.  I  allers  shill  b'lieve  dat  him  an'  dat 
gray  pony  had  some  deep  pardnership  wid  one 
anudder,  bekaze  ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  dat,  de 
Little  Marster  would  'a'  been  drug  out  de  saddle 
whilst  dey  runnin'  thoo  de  scrub  pines  an'  de 
black  jacks.  Dey  went  skeetin'  here  an'  dar,  an' 
when  de  dogs  ketched,  dar  wuz  de  Little  Marster, 
an'  de  pony,  right  in  'mongst  um.  Hit 's  so,  ez 
sho  ez  I  'm  a-settin'  here." 

Fountain  paused  and  sighed,  then  he  went  on : 
"  I  'speck  my  blood  '11  be  het  up  ef  I  hear  de  horn 
a-blowin'  and  de  dogs  a-yelpin',  but  I  'm  lots  too 
old  fer  dem  kinder  doin's.  Let  um  call  on  Johnny 
Bapter.  He  may  not  be  so  mighty  knowin',  but 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING.  113 

he  *s  young  and  soople.  But  in  times  now  gone, 
mo'  speshually  when  de  reds  come  in  an'  driv'  de 
grays  out,  I  know'd  de  feedin'  groun'  an*  de 
promenade  of  all  de  foxes  fum  here  ter  de  river 
—  eve'y  one  un  um.  An'  mo'  dan  dat,  I  know 
whar  one  ol'  red  stays  right  now.  He  's  ez  big 
ez  a  cur  dog.  Folks  tried  de'r  level  bes'  fer  ter 
ketch  dat  ol'  fox  'fo'  de  war.  Dey  brung  dogs 
here  fum  away  off  yan',  but  he  des  played  wid 
um.  He  kin  tell  a  houn'  fum  a  house  dog  by  de 
bark,  an'  time  he  hear  one  atter  midnight,  he 
done  gone  —  he  done  up  an'  gone !  He  got  a 
white  patch  'twixt  his  eyes,  an'  on  'count  er  dat, 
day  call  'im  Scour-Face." 

"  Scar-Face,"  Buster  John  corrected.  "  Why, 
he  9s  the  fox  they  are  going  to  catch !  " 

Fountain  laughed  softly.  "  Oh,  dey  er  gwine 
ter  ketch  'im?  Well,  atter  he's  cotch,  I  hope 
dey  '11  show  im  ter  me.  Scour-Face,  er  Scyar- 
Face,  I  wanter  see  what  dat  white  mark  is  'twixt 
his  eyes." 

"They  are  going  to  bring  Birdsong  dogs," 
explained  Buster  John. 

"  Well,  dey  '11  hatter  sing  bird  song  er  some 
yuther  kinder  song  'fo'  dey  ketch  dat  fox." 


114  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Besides  all  the  other  dogs,  Joe  Maxwell  is  to 
bring  Hodo,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

"I  hear -tell  er  dat  dog,"  replied  Fountain. 
"  Dey  say  he  sho  is  a  mover.  But,  shucks !  you 
kin  hear  dat  kinder  talk  about  mos'  any  dog. 
But  dish  yer  Hoodo  got  ter  have  brains  ez  well 
as  legs  ef  he  ketch  ol'  Scour-Face.  I  'm  a-talkin' 
now,  sho." 

"  Where  does  old  Scar-Face  stay,  Uncle  Foun- 
tain ?  "  asked  Buster  John. 

"  You  know  dat  ar  broom-sage  fiel'  right  up 
yan',  cross  de  road  fum  de  gin-house  ?  Well,  he 
stay  right  dar.  Ef  you  wuz  ter  go  out  er  de  door 
dar  an'  holler  right  loud,  he  'd  hear  you,  less'n 
he  's  promenadin'  some'rs  else.  He  been  dar  dis 
long  time.  Dey  don't  a  week  pass  but  what  I 
sees  him  slippin'  an'  slidin'  'long.  He  moves  des 
like  a  shadder;  once  an'  awhile  he'll  stop  an' 
look  at  you,  but  mos'  er  de  time  it 's  f  wiff  !  an'  he 
done  gone.  He  got  sense  same  ez  folks." 

Buster  John  asked  Fountain  a  great  many 
questions  about  Scar-Face,  with  the  result  that  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  see  the  fox  himself.  His 
curiosity  affected  Sweetest  Susan,  and  she  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  see  old  Scar-Face.  As  for 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING.  115 

Drusilla,  she  did  n't  care  one  way  or  the  other. 
So  long  as  there  was  no  bubble  and  no  live  nighir 
mares  around,  she  was  satisfied  —  at  least,  she 
was  not  contentious ;  though  she  predicted  now, 
as  she  had  been  predicting  all  along,  that  the 
children  would  "  keep  on  f oolin'  'roun'  an'  gwine 
whar  dey  got  no  business  twel  some  kind  er  cree- 
tur  would  snap  um  up,  an'  walk  off  wid  um." 

It  was  an  easy  matter  for  Buster  John  and 
Sweetest  Susan  to  say  they  would  like  to  see  old 
Scar-Face,  the  Red  Fox,  but  how  to  see  him  was  a 
very  different  matter.  They  might  walk  through 
the  "broom-sage"  every  day  for  a  week,  or  a 
month,  or  a  year,  and  never  see  him ;  they  might 
sit  in  the  fence  corner  and  peep  between  the  rails 
from  sun-up  till  sun-down,  and  never  catch  a 
glimpse  of  him.  Old  Scar-Face  would  see  them. 
Oh,  yes  !  no  doubt  about  that.  It  was  his  busi- 
ness to  see  without  being  seen.  He  began  to 
learn  that  trade  when  he  wasn't  bigger  than 
Buster  John's  two  fists ;  and  by  constant  practice 
he  had  developed  it  into  a  fine  art.  The  shyest 
and  wariest  birds  could  light  within  an  inch  of 
his  nose  and  never  see  him ;  could  light  there, 
but  they  never  flew  away  any  more.  Old  Molly 


116  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Cottontail,  all  eyes  and  ears,  could  sit  in  her  cozy 
home,  and  never  know  that  old  Scar-Face  was  in 
the  neighborhood  until  she  felt  his  cruel  teeth. 
And  even  the  wood  rat,  whose  keen  eyes  fairly 
glistened  with  cunning,  hardly  dared  to  shake  a 
straw  in  all  that  field  for  fear  of  being  pounced 
upon. 

Well,  then,  how  could  the  children  hope  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  this  wild  and  cunning  crea- 
ture ?  Aaron  was  the  one  to  solve  the  problem 
for  them,  and  to  Aaron  they  went.  He  tamed 
the  White  Pig  for  them,  and  had  made  them 
familiar  with  the  Black  Stallion  —  that  fierce 
creature  whose  neigh  was  sufficient  to  stampede 
the  whole  plantation.  If  Aaron  could  do  these 
things,  he  could  also  bring  them  to  old  Scar- 
Face,  the  Red  Fox.  So  to  Aaron  they  went,  with 
many  explanations  and  pleadings.  Mention  of 
the  old  fox  caused  Aaron  to  reflect  a  little  over 
the  past.  He  had  known  old  Scar-Face  when  a 
"  puppy,"  a  statement  that  caused  the  children  to 
laugh. 

There  is  war  between  the  reds  and  grays,  as 
the  Son  of  Ben  Ali  explained,  —  a  war  that  began 
many  years  ago  over  some  family  matter.  Fox 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING.  117 

to  fox,  the  reds  can  whip  the  grays,  and  this  fact 
has  become  so  well  established  that  the  grays 
always  get  out  of  the  way  when  they  can.  It  hap- 
pened one  day,  when  Scar-Face  was  a  "  puppy/' 
as  Aaron  said,  with  big  legs  and  a  very  wobbly 
body,  he  met  a  big  gray  in  the  woods.  Some 
instinct  or  other  caused  the  red  to  rush  at  the 
gray,  and  that  was  the  cause  of  the  red's  scar. 
The  gray  would  have  run  away  if  he  could,  but 
Scar-Face  caught  him  by  the  flank  and  held  on 
like  a  bull-terrier,  while  the  gray,  frightened  and 
hurt,  gnawed  away  on  Scar-Face's  head  until  the 
top  of  it  was  bare  of  hide  and  hair. 

It  was  then  that  the  Son  of  Ben  Ali  chanced 
to  pass,  and  the  gray  with  a  scream  of  fear  tore 
away,  leaving  some  of  his  pelt  between  Scar- 
Face's  teeth.  After  some  trouble,  Aaron  ex- 
plained to  the  red  that  he  was  no  enemy,  having 
himself  been  a  hunted  animal  at  one  time.  He 
"  doctored  "  the  torn  head  the  best  he  could,  but 
the  wound  left  a  mark,  a  bare  place  fringed  with 
•white  hair. 

Aaron  was  very  much  interested  in  the  pro- 
posed fox  hunt,  and  asked  many  questions  about 
it.  Finally  he  promised  the  children  that,  if  they 


118  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

would  remind  him  of  it  the  next  afternoon,  he 
would  go  with  them  to  the  sedge-field  and  try  to 
find  old  Scar-Face.  He  counted  on  his  fingers, 
and  made  out  the  age  of  the  red  to  be  nearly 
eight  years,  and  concluded  that  if  the  dogs  were 
good  and  swift,  they  ought  to  be  able  to  run  him 
down  in  about  eight  hours. 

"  If  't  was  me,"  remarked  the  Son  of  Ben  All, 
"  I  'd  find  out  the  day  the  dogs  come,  and  then 
I  'd  pack  my  wallet,  and  take  my  walking-stick, 
and  move  into  the  middle  of  the  big  swamp. 
But  he  won't  do  it.  He  don't  like  the  swamp; 
too  much  water,  maybe,  or  maybe  too  much  coon. 
I  '11  give  him  fair  warning." 

The  next  afternoon  being  clear  and  pleasant, 
the  children  were  trotting  to  Aaron's  heels  a  full 
hour  before  he  was  ready  to  go.  If  he  had  to  go 
to  the  horse-lot,  they  trotted  after  him  ;  if  to  the 
carriage  house,  it  was  the  same  thing.  Occupied 
with  so  many  duties,  he  sometimes  forgot  his  half 
playful  promises,  and  so,  when  the  youngsters 
were  in  earnest  about  anything,  they  had  a  habit 
of  trotting  at  his  heels  until,  in  sheer  self-defense, 
he  was  compelled  to  carry  out  their  wishes  as  far 
as  he  could.  Toward  the  middle  of  the  after- 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING.  119 

noon  he  announced  himself  ready,  and,  with 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  jumping  and 
skipping  at  his  side,  and  Drusilla  more  soberly 
bringing  up  the  rear,  he  went  to  the  field  where 
old  Scar-Face  was  said  to  have  his  home.  Before 
the  broom-sedge  took  it,  the  field  had  been  used 
as  a  pasture  for  the  cows,  but  it  was  now  pastured 
only  in  the  early  spring,  when  the  tender  shoots 
of  the  sedge  are  putting  out.  This  was  why 
bars  took  the  place  of  a  gate.  Two  of  the  bars 
were  already  down,  and  it  was  an  easy  matter  for 
the  Son  of  Ben  Ali  to  stoop  and  pass  under  the 
topmost  bar.  The  children  following  promptly, 
he  paused  to  arrange  the  entrance  so  that  no 
stray  cattle  from  neighboring  plantations  might 
wander  in.  Aaron's  caution  was  simply  the  re- 
sult of  the  force  of  habit.  The  Federal  army 
had  spared  the  stock  on  the  Abercrombie  place  as 
we  have  seen,  but  there  were  few  cattle  left  in  all 
that  region  to  stray  through  open  gates  or  fallen 
bars. 

"  We  are  hunting  foxes  on  a  new  plan,"  said 
Buster  somewhat  boastfully.  But  Aaron  warned 
him  to  be  quiet. 

They  went  through  the  sedge,  which  was  as 


120  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

high  as  Aaron's  waist,  and  higher  than  Sweetest 
Susan's  head,  until  they  came  to  a  pine  thicket. 
In  a  desert  this  small  pine  orchard  would  be  called 
an  oasis.  In  the  sedge-field  it  was  known  as  the 
pine  thicket.  The  pines  were  not  large;  they 
had  sprung  up  since  the  field  had  been  aban- 
doned; but  they  were  large  enough  and  thick 
enough  to  afford  shelter  from  the  sun  in  hot 
weather,  and  to  form  a  sort  of  playground  or 
meeting  place  for  the  wild  creatures  at  night. 
On  the  side  toward  the  high  road,  the  sedge  shut 
this  playground  in  from  observation,  and  on  the 
opposite  side  there  was  a  wall  of  brambles  and 
wild  briars  and  blackberry  bushes. 

This  wall  had  a  door,  too.  When  the  rams 
fell,  the  lay  of  the  land  caused  hundreds  of  little 
rivulets  to  trickle  through  the  sedge  toward  the 
thicket.  On  the  other  side,  these  tiny  rivulets 
coming  together  gathered  force  and  strength,  and 
the  force  thus  collected  dug  its  way  through  the 
briary  wall.  By  some  this  door  would  be  called 
a  drain  or  "dreen,"  by  others,  a  gully.  Any- 
how, there  it  was,  and  in  good  weather  it  formed 
a  neat  entrance  for  the  wild  creatures  coming 
from  the  forest  side. 


A   TALK  ABOUT  FOX  HUNTING.  121 

It  was  to  this  playground  that  Aaron  led  the 
youngsters.  By  a  motion  of  his  hand,  the  Son 
of  Ben  Ali  indicated  that  they  were  to  sit  on  the 
carpet  of  pine  needles,  thickly  spread  over  the 
ground.  He  had  no  need  to  ask  them  to  refrain 
from  talking.  His  expectant  attitude  was  suf- 
ficient of  itself  to  command  their  silence,  and 
there  was  something  in  the  situation  that  kept 
the  children  quiet.  They  felt  now,  as  they  some- 
times did  when  playing  hide  and  seek  in  the  big, 
dark  barn,  when  those  who  played  the  part  of  It 
were  afraid  that  one  of  the  hidden  ones,  or  some- 
thing else,  would  jump  out  of  the  gloom  and 
seize  them. 

Aaron  remained  standing,  one  hand  resting  on 
the  trunk  of  a  pine.  The  silence  was  so  pro- 
found that  the  wind  softly  blowing  through  the 
dry  sedge  sounded  like  the  flight  of  frightened 
creatures.  How  long  they  remained  thus,  the 
children  could  never  guess,  but  it  seemed  a  very 
long  time  indeed.  Suddenly,  the  Son  of  Ben 
Ali,  using  his  hand  as  a  sort  of  trumpet,  gave 
a  peculiar  cry,  which  was  thrice  repeated.  The 
children  having  been  "touched"  understood  this 
at  once. 


122  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Cunning  one !  Where  are  you  ?  Where 
are  you  ?  " 

Almost  instantly  this  was  answered  by  a  series 
of  short,  sharp  yelps,  which,  to  the  ordinary  ear, 
would  have  sounded  like  the  cry  of  welcome  or  of 
pain  made  by  a  very  small  dog.  But  to  Aaron 
and  the  children  it  meant  this :  — 

"  I  am  here,  Son  of  Ben  Ali,  here  and  waiting. 
But  what  is  this  you  have  brought  ?  " 

At  the  same  instant  the  head  of  old  Scar-Face 
appeared  in  the  opening  of  the  tunnel  made  by 
the  gully  and  the  overhanging  briars. 


"I   AM    HERE,   SON   OF   BEN  ALI : 


vm. 

OLD    SCAR-FACE,    THE    BED    FOX,   DOES   SOME 
BRAGGING. 

"  WHAT  is  it,  and  who  is  it  ? "  old  Scar-Face 
repeated,  holding  himself  ready  to  disappear  in 
the  bushes  at  a  word,  or  a  motion  of  the  hand. 
But  the  children  had  had  some  experience  with 
wild  creatures,  and  they  sat  as  still  as  statues. 

"The  time  was,"  said  the  Son  of  Ben  Ali, 
"  when  you  came  at  my  call  and  asked  no  ques- 
tions. You  have  forgotten,  but  I  remember." 

"  No,  Son  of  Ben  Ali,"  old  Scar-Face  replied, 
<{  I  have  not  forgotten  ;  but  when  you  came,  you 
came  alone  ;  you  brought  no  strangers  with  you." 

te  I  said  you  had  forgotten,"  remarked  Aaron. 
«  What  of  Rambler,  the  track-dog? " 

"  True  !  Oh,  most  true,  Son  of  Ben  Ali !  "  ex- 
claimed old  Scar-Face,  lowering  his  head  in  ap- 
parent humility,  a  fact  that  caused  Drusilla  to 
remark,  in  a  whisper,  "  He  do  like  he  human  ! " 


124  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

And  the  countenance  of  old  Scar-Face,  cruel 
and  crafty,  certainly  had  a  human  aspect.  The 
children  tried  in  vain  to  remember  whom  he  re- 
sembled. One  and  all  were  sure  in  their  own 
minds  they  had  seen  some  one  who  looked  like 
him.  Here  was  the  personification  of  craft  and 
fear  —  the  sharp  nose,  the  white  teeth  gleaming, 
the  glittering,  shifty  eyes,  the  pointed  ears  turn- 
ing about  to  catch  every  sound,  and  so  keen  of 
hearing  that  the  fall  of  a  pine  needle  attracted 
their  attention. 

This  was  old  Scar-Face  the  invincible,  cele- 
brated throughout  Middle  Georgia  as  the  fox 
which  had  out-footed,  and  out-manoeuvred  every 
kennel  of  hounds  brought  against  him.  The  ordi- 
nary hounds  which  had  been  used  for  chasing 
gray  foxes  were  simply  the  playthings  of  old 
Scar-Face.  It  was  his  pleasure  to  use  them  for 
the  purpose  of  practicing  new  movements.  He 
had  one  scheme,  which,  when  he  was  not  feeling 
well,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  working  on  his  pur- 
suers. It  may  be  called  the  triple  loops,  each 
loop  being  a  mile  or  a  half-mile  in  circumference, 
the  extent  depending  on  circumstances.  Here 
is  a  diagram  of  the  movement :  — 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  125 


Imagine  the  loops  to  cover  a  half-inile  each,  and 
the  difficulty  which  a  dog  would  have  in  untan- 
gling them  with  his  nose,  and  that,  too,  while  he 
is  trying  to  go  at  full  speed,  will  be  easily  per- 
ceived. When  the  ordinary  hounds  failed  to 
catch  old  Scar-Face,  hunters  from  a  distance  came 
with  their  Birdsong  hounds.  These  were  Irish 
dogs,  but  were  called  Birdsong  because  they  were 
first  bred  in  Georgia  by  a  planter  of  that  name. 
These  taught  old  Scar-Face  the  necessity  of  get- 
ting on  foot  whenever  he  heard  a  hound  bark  be- 
tween midnight  and  day  ;  but  when  the  Birdsong 
hounds  found  his  drag  warm,  the  triple  loops  were 
sufficient  to  throw  them  out. 

Here,  then  was  this  famous  old  fox,  grinning 
at  Aaron  and  the  children,  almost  within  reach  of 
their  hands.  Sweetest  Susan  and  Drusilla  were 
plainly  afraid  of  him,  for  the  white  scar  on  his 


126  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

forehead  did  not  add  to  his  beauty ;  but  Buster 
John  regarded  him  with  great  curiosity  and 
interest. 

"I  had  forgotten  Rambler,  Son  of  Ben  Ali," 
said  old  Scar-Face  musingly.  "  But  I  was  not  the 
first  to  forget ;  more  than  once  I  heard  Rambler 
howling  for  my  blood." 

"  Yes ;  he  made  no  bargain  with  me,"  Aaron 
remarked.  "  But  here  are  those  who  have  heard 
of  you,  and  who  begged  to  see  you.  They  have 
some  news  for  you." 

"It  is  long  since  I  had  any,"  said  old  Scar- 
Face. 

Whereupon  Aaron  told  of  the  fox  hunt  that 
was  to  take  place,  and  of  a  hound  named  Hodo, 
who  was  almost  as  famous  among  fox-hunters  as 
old  Scar-Face  himself.  During  this  recital  the 
fox  came  out  of  the  tunnel,  but  sat  upon  his 
haunches  close  to  the  mouth  of  it,  and  held  him- 
self in  readiness  to  take  refuge  therein  on  the 
slightest  alarm. 

"When  is  the  hunt  to  be?"  asked  old  Scar- 
Face. 

"  In  the  days  when  there  is  no  working  in  the 
fields  and  woods.  When  you  fail  to  hear  the  axe 


READY  TO  DISAPPEAR  IN  THE  BUSHES 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  127 

and  the  rattle  of  the  wagon,  then  you  may  know 
the  time  for  the  hunt  is  near  at  hand,"  said 
Aaron. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  during  this  pause  a  hare, 
a  small,  palpitating  creature,  came  creeping  from 
the  sedge  and  sat  looking  at  Aaron  and  the  chil- 
dren. Some  movement  or  other  frightened  it,  and 
it  bounded  away.  Old  Scar-Face  disappeared  in 
the  tunnel  like  a  shadow,  and  presently  those  who 
were  listening  heard  the  poor  little  hare  give  one 
scream  of  agony  and  fright,  and  then  all  was  still. 

"What  hurt  the  rabbit?"  asked  Sweetest 
Susan.  "  I  think  it 's  a  shame,"  she  cried,  when 
Aaron  motioned  with  his  hand  to  indicate  the 
fox.  As  she  spoke,  old  Scar-Face  appeared  at  the 
door  of  the  tunnel.  At  his  feet  lay  the  rabbit. 

Sweetest  Susan  looked  appealingly  at  Aaron ; 
but  appealing  looks  could  n't  bring  the  hare  back 
to  life. 

"  I  feel  better,"  remarked  old  Scar-Face,  lick- 
ing his  chops.  "  I  have  n't  had  a  good  dinner  in 
two  suns.  They  are  hard  to  catch." 

"  You  are  getting  old,"  suggested  Aaron. 

"  Yes,  old  ;  but  I  gave  this  little  creature  a  fair 
chance." 


128  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"It  was  a  quick  catch,"  Aaron  declared. 

"  Neat,  if  not  quick,"  said  old  Scar-Face,  with 
an  air  of  pride.  "  I  'm  old,  but  not  too  old  for 
this  —  not  too  old  to  lead  into  the  middle  winds 
this  great  dog  you  tell  of." 

"What  are  the  '  middle  winds?'"  Buster 
John  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  Where  there  is  no  scent,"  Aaron  explained. 

"There  is  scent  enough,"  remarked  old  Scar- 
Face,  "  but  it  is  lifted  from  ground  and  grass  by 
the  winds.  Yes,  I  will  lead  this  wonderful  dog 
into  the  middle  winds,  and  leave  him  there  ;  or  I 
will  carry  him  to  the  barren  places  where  the 
ground  is  red  and  dry,  or  where  the  sand  has 
drifted.  It  is  now  three  years  since  I  have  done 
more  than  trot  before  the  dogs  they  bring.  What 
I  need,  Son  of  Ben  AH,  is  something  to  stir  the 
blood  and  make  me  thirsty." 

"  This  dog  they  will  bring  will  give  you  what 
you  want,"  said  Aaron.  "  He  is  called  Hodo." 

"  What  is  that,  Son  of  Ben  Ali  ?  " 

"  It  is  his  name." 

"Well,  my  name  is  Woodranger.  What  do 
your  kind  call  me,  Son  of  Ben  Ali  ?  " 

"  Scar-Face,"  replied  Aaron  bluntly. 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  129 

"  It  is  as  good  as  any,"  said  the  fox. 

e<  Yes,  one  name  is  as  good  as  another  when 
you  have  three  meals  a  day,"  Aaron  assented. 

"  There  was  a  time,"  suggested  old  Scar-Face, 
"  when  the  Son  of  Ben  Ali  killed  and  brought  me 
birds  j  but  that  time  is  past." 

"  You  are  no  longer  weak  and  young.  But  I 
came  to-day  to  do  you  a  better  turn  than  that.  I 
came  to  warn  you  of  this  dog  from  a  strange  set- 
tlement, whose  nose  is  so  keen  that  he  never  puts 
it  to  the  ground,  and  whose  legs  are  so  strong 
that  he  but  touches  the  top  of  a  ten-rail  fence  as 
he  goes  over.  Take  my  word  for  it ;  let  not 
another  sun  rise  on  you  here  till  the  grass  is  green 
again.  Go  to  the  river  ;  hide  in  the  big  swamp  ; 
stay  anywhere  but  here.  Let  the  dog  with  the 
queer  name  run  down  and  kill  one  of  your 
brethren.  Do  you  move  away  for  a  time  and  go 
where  the  hunters  may  not  follow." 

Old  Scar-Face  tried  to  reach  with  his  hind  foot 
a  flea  that  was  tickling  him  on  the  top  of  his  back 
near  his  shoulder,  and  in  making  the  effort  he 
stretched  out  his  neck,  closed  his  eye,  and  grinned 
so  comically  that  the  children  laughed. 

"  Come ;  I  '11  scratch  you/'  said  Aaron. 


130  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Old  Scar-Face  took  a  step  forward,  but  hesi- 
tated. "No,  Son  of  Ben  AH,"  he  said.  "It 
makes  me  cold  to  be  too  near  the  new  ones." 

Whereupon  Aaron  himself  took  a  step  forward 
and  scratched  old  Scar-Face  on  the  back  with  a 
pine  cone,  and  this  operation  seemed  to  be  so 
pleasing  that  the  fox  kept  time  to  the  scratching- 
by  patting  the  ground  with  one  of  his  hind  feet, 
as  though  he  were  trying  in  this  way  to  aid  Aaron. 
When  old  Scar-Face  had  been  thoroughly  scratched 
along  the  spine,  where  his  hind  foot  could  not 
reach,  he  shook  himself,  licked  his  chops,  and 
seemed  to  feel  very  much  better. 

"  And  so  you  think  I  should  move  away  from 
my  home,  Son  of  Ben  Ali,"  old  Scar-Face  re- 
marked. "  Well,  if  you  had  come  saying,  i  My 
friend,  you  are  in  danger ;  fly  and  remain  away 
many  suns,'  to-morrow's  dawn  would  have  found 
me  miles  away.  But  when  you  say,  '  Beware  of 
the  dogs ;  there  is  one  called  Hodo  coming  to 
run  you  down,'  that  is  different.  I  want  to  hear 
this  strange  dog  yelping  behind  me,  not  too  close, 
but  far  enough  away  to  make  him  weary.  I  want 
to  hear  the  noise  of  his  yelp,  or  know  that  he  is 
running  wildly  hither  and  yonder,  sick  to  know 
where  the  Woodranger  has  gone." 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  131 

"As  you  please,  old  friend,"  said  Aaron. 
"This  Hodo  has  made  great  talk  amongst  the 
hunters.  I  have  warned  you ;  it  is  all  I  can  do." 

"  There  have  been  swift  dogs  after  me,  Son  of 
Ben  Ali ;  but  they  have  always  been  behind  me. 
Not  one  of  them  has  ever  untangled  the  loops  of 
my  tangle ;  not  one  have  I  ever  carried  into  the 
middle  winds.  This  strange  dog  I  should  like  to 
carry  there  if  he  has  strength  enough ;  once 
there,  I  '11  bid  him  good-by." 

"  You  '11  be  surprised  if  he  tells  you  howdy," 
suggested  Aaron. 

"  So  would  you,  Son  of  Ben  Ali." 

"  No,  you  're  wrong ;  it  would  be  no  surprise 
to  me,"  Aaron  replied.  "  You  have  won  many  a 
race ;  you  have  broken  down  many  a  pack  of 
hounds ;  but  you  are  not  as  young  as  you  were. 
And  something  tells  me  that  if  you  were  in  your 
prime,  this  hound  would  outfoot  you.  I  know 
what  I  know." 

"  And  I  know  what  I  can  do,  Son  of  Ben  Ali ; 
and  I  '11  show  you  when  the  time  comes.  I  '11 
give  this  hound  a  warm  scent,  and  I  '11  cut  out  for 
him  a  journey  he  '11  long  remember." 

"This  thing   of   remembering,"    said   Aaron, 


132  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  depends  on  whether  you  are  well  enough  to  re- 
member. I  hope  you  '11  be  well  enough  for  that 
when  the  race  is  over." 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  Son  of  Ben  All. 
Many  of  the  things  I  know  you  taught  me ;  many 
I  learned  myself.  I  have  been  putting  them  all 
together  until  now  I  want  to  see  what  the  strange 
hound  will  make  of  them." 

"Well,  so  long,"  said  Aaron.  "You  are 
warned ;  that  is  enough.  Go  to  your  rabbit  be- 
fore it  is  cold,  and  I  '11  go  to  my  work." 

Old  Scar-Face  disappeared  in  the  tunnel,  and 
Aaron  and  the  children  went  home. 

"Why  did  you  warn  him?"  Buster  John 
asked,  when  they  were  out  of  the  sedge-field. 

"  Old  times — old  times,"  replied  Aaron.  "  When 
he  was  a  puppy  I  doctored  him,  and  he  used  to 
trot  after  me  in  the  woods.  Now  my  mind 's  easy. 
If  he  is  caught,  well ;  if  he  ain't,  good.  He  's 
outrun  hounds  so  long  that  he's  got  it  in  his 
head  that  none  can  catch  him.  That 's  his 
business." 

"  I  did  n't  like  his  looks,"  said  Sweetest  Susan 
after  awhile. 

"  Ner  me,  needer,"  Drusilla  exclaimed.     "  He 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  133 

look  too  much  like  folks  when  he  helt  his  head 
on  one  side  an'  grin.  He  looked  mighty  'umble- 
come-tumble,  when  he  was  settin'  dar  hangin'  his 
head  down,  an*  talkin'  'bout  how  he  gwine  do. 
You  see  how  he  catch  dat  rabbit?  't  was  des  like 
snappin'  yo'  fingers.  Dat  creetur  sho  is  got  de 
01'  Boy  in  'im.  I  hope  dey  '11  ketch  'im." 

Buster  John  said  nothing.  He  was  wondering 
how  he  could  manage  to  get  permission  to  go  on 
the  hunt  that  had  been  arranged  for.  At  last  he 
asked  Aaron's  advice. 

"  Ride  behind  some  of  'em,"  Aaron  replied. 

"  Fountain  or  Johnny  Bapter  can  take  one  of 
the  carriage  horses,"  Buster  John  suggested. 
Aaron  nodded  his  head,  and  the  youngster  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  with  the  hunters,  unless  every- 
body in  the  house  shut  their  ears  to  his  pleadings. 

Now,  Sweetest  Susan,  who  knew  that  she  could 
not  go  in  any  event,  was  very  anxious  for  her 
brother  to  see  the  hunt,  and  if  her  reason  was 
partly  a  selfish  one,  it  was  not  different  in  that 
respect  from  the  reasons  of  a  great  many  grown 
persons.  She  wanted  to  hear  all  about  the  chase, 
and  she  knew  that  Buster  John  could  tell  her 
about  it  better  than  any  one  else.  This  was  the 
selfish  part. 


134  PLANT  A  TION  PA  GEANTS. 

On  the  other  hand,  she  also  wanted  Buster 
John  to  go  because  his  desire  was  so  keen.  He 
had  never  seen  a  fox  hunt,  and  he  was  getting 
quite  old  enough,  in  Sweetest  Susan's  opinion,  to 
share  in  some  of  the  amusements  of  his  elders. 
True,  fox  hunting  is  a  rough  sport  when  it  is  car- 
ried out  with  energy,  but  Buster  John  didn't 
have  to  break  his  neck  riding  across  ditches  and 
gullies,  and  jumping  fences.  He  could  ride  be- 
hind Fountain  or  Johnny  Bapter,  or  on  one  of 
the  fat  and  sober  carriage  horses.  Sweetest 
Susan  had  heard  her  grandfather  say  many  times 
that  with  good  dogs,  and  a  hot  drag,  a  fox-hunter 
need  n't  ride  very  far  nor  very  fast  to  see  pretty 
much  all  there  is  to  be  seen  of  a  fox  hunt.  She 
did  n't  remember  just  these  words,  but  she  knew 
what  her  grandfather  meant,  for  he  himself  was 
among  those  who  ceased  to  be  ambitious  to  "  tail 
the  fox,"  and  was  content  to  canter  from  one 
position  to  another,  so  as  to  be  able  to  see  the 
most  exciting  events  in  a  fox  chase. 

So  the  youngsters,  as  children  will,  put  their 
heads  together  and  laid  the  plan  of  a  campaign, 
and  it  was  a  very  cunning  one,  too.  Not  a  word 
•was  to  be  said  about  the  hunt  until  they  knew 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  135 

the  very  day  on  which  it  was  to  take  place.  Then 
the  day  before,  the  matter  was  to  be  broached  by 
Jemimy,  not  seriously,  but  in  a  half -joking  way. 
This  would  be  followed  by  Sweetest  Susan,  and 
then  Buster  John  himself  would  make  an  appeal, 
an  appeal  full  of  tears  if  necessary. 

"You  never  have  seen  me  cry  as  hard  as  I 
can,"  he  declared  to  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  What  you  wanter  wait  so  long  'fo'  you  git 
atter  um  'bout  it  ?  "  inquired  Drusilla. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sweetest  Susan,  "  why  ?  " 

"If  you  begin  too  soon,"  explained  Buster 
John,  "  mamma  will  find  forty  reasons  why  I 
should  n't  go,  and  they  '11  all  be  good  ones.  If 
we  begin  the  day  before,  she  '11  be  too  busy  fix- 
ing up  the  house  for  the  gentlemen  who  are  to  go 
hunting ;  she  '11  be  too  busy  to  find  any  reasons. 
You  know  how  mamma  is  when  company  is 
coming." 

"  I  'm  dreadin'  de  day,"  said  Drusilla  with  em- 
phasis. "  When  comp'ny  comin',  de  whole  house 
got  ter  be  tore  up  an'  cleaned,  and  eve'ything  got 
ter  be  desso." 

"  And  when  company  comes,"  chimed  in  Sweet- 
est Susan,  "  she  '11  let  us  do  anything  we  ask  her, 


136  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

almost.  When  Mrs.  Terrell  came  that  time,  1 
asked  mamma  if  me  and  Drusilla  might  play  in 
the  barn  loft,  and  she  kissed  me  and  said  '  yes.' 
And  the  next  day  she  happened  to  think  about 
the  loose  planks  up  there,  and  then  she  said  we 
must  n't  go  in  the  loft  never  any  more." 

"  If  Mrs.  Terrell  had  n't  been  there,"  said  Bus- 
ter John,  "  she  'd  have  thought  about  the  loose 
planks  right  on  the  spot."  And  to  this  Sweetest 
Susan  readily  assented. 

Their  mother,  like  most  mothers,  had  not  the 

faintest  idea  that  the  children  were  able  to  put 

their  small  fingers  on  some  of  her  characteristics ; 

but  youngsters  the  world  over  are  more  observ- 

(  ing  and  know  a  great  deal  more  than  their  elders 

/give  them  credit  for.     The  most  of  them  are  dis- 

/creet  enough  to  keep  their  knowledge  to  them- 

^saelves. 

Well,  Buster  John's  plan  of  campaign  was  as 
•we  have  outlined  above,  and  (though  he  did  after- 
wards develop  into  a  very  successful  politician)  it 
must  not  be  supposed  that  his  plan  displayed  any 
special  aptness  or  brilliancy.  No,  he  was  merely 
a  very  bright  boy,  whose  common  sense  was  in 
process  of  development. 


OLD  SCAR-FACE.  137 

Moreover,  if  his  plan  had  cost  him  any  serious 
thought,  it  would  have  been  labor  thrown  away; 
for  as  matters  turned  out,  it  was  not  necessary  at 
all.  Indeed,  it  might  have  failed,  but  for  one  of 
those  lucky  incidents  that  sometimes  happen  to  us 
all.  Buster  John  not  only  saw  the  fox  hunt,  or 
at  least  the  part  of  it  that  could  be  seen,  but  he 
saw  it  in  such  a  fortunate  way,  and  under  such 
delightful  circumstances,  that  it  remained  for 
many  years  a  red-letter  day  in  his  memory. 


IX. 

BUSTER    JOHN    SEES    HODO. 

Now  the  lucky  chance  which  gave  Buster  John 
opportunity  to  see  the  fox  hunt  was  both  curious 
and  interesting.  The  date  was  fixed  upon,  and 
the  children's  grandfather  invited  the  hunters  to 
spend  the  night  with  him,  so  as  to  have  an  early 
start  the  next  morning.  So,  one  Friday  afternoon 
—  the  hunt  was  to  take  place  on  Saturday  —  the 
hunters  began  to  arrive,  some  singly  and  some  in 
couples,  until  all  had  arrived  except  young  Max- 
veil  and  his  hound  Hodo.  Mr.  Kilpatrick  came, 
bringing  Music  and  Whalebone  and  Tip,  with 
others.  Mr.  Collings worth  brought  Fanny  and 
Rocket  and  Bartow,  with  their  chorus ;  and  Mr. 
Dennis  brought  Rowan  and  Ruth  and  Top  and 
Flirt.  There  were  other  hunters  with  their  dogs, 
and  one  or  two  gentlemen  who  had  no  dogs,  but 
who  wanted  to  see  the  sport. 

But  these  hunters,  their  friends,  and  their  dogs, 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  139 

•were  not  the  ones  Buster  John  wanted  to  see. 
So  he  continued  to  watch  the  big  gate  at  the  head 
of  the  avenue.  Sweetest  Susan  watched  with  him, 
Drusilla  being  busy  helping  their  mother,  who,  as 
a  good  housekeeper,  looked  after  her  dining-room 
and  was  not  afraid  to  go  into  the  kitchen.  Bus- 
ter John  was  anxious  lest  young  Maxwell  would 
fail  to  come,  and  said  so  many  times.  He  had 
once  heard  his  grandfather  reading  something 
that  Maxwell  had  written  in  the  county  paper, 
and  he  had  also  heard  the  negroes  talking  about 
the  young  man,  how  clever  and  kind  he  was. 
And  then  his  horse,  Butterfly,  and  his  hound, 
Hodo  !  What  wonderful  tales  old  Fountain  and 
Johnny  Bapter  had  told  about  these  animals  ! 

But  when  the  sun  was  about  an  hour  high,  and 
just  as  Buster  John  had  given  up  all  hope,  he  saw 
the  big  gate  swing  open.  A  large  dog  came 
through,  and  after  him  a  rider  on  a  sorrel  horse. 
Without  alighting  from  his  horse,  the  rider  pulled 
the  gate  to,  and,  leaning  down  until  Buster  John 
could  see  nothing  but  one  of  his  feet  pressing 
against  the  saddle,  fastened  the  catch.  Buster 
John  had  never  seen  the  gate  opened  and  shut  in 
this  fashion  before,  for  the  latch  had  been  pur- 


140  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

posely  fixed  low,  so  that  the  little  negroes  could 
open  the  gate  for  vehicles  going  out  and  coming 
in.  The  dog  waited  with  much  dignity  for  the 
gate  to  be  shut,  and  then  came  trotting  along  the 
avenue,  close  at  the  heels  of  the  cantering  horse. 

"  That 's  him,"  cried  Buster  John,  clapping  his 
hands.  How  often  had  Johnny  Bapter  and  old 
Fountain  described  the  horse  and  rider  !  "  Pale 
little  feller,  look  like  he  'bout  twelve  year  oP. 
Rangy  sorrel  horse,  wid  long  mane,  an'  a  tail  dat 
drag  de  groun'."  The  tail  was  tied  up,  owing  to 
the  muddy  roads,  but  the  inane  was  loose,  and 
gave  the  horse  a  very  attractive  and  picturesque 
appearance. 

Both  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  ran  to 
meet  young  Maxwell,  but  Johnny  Bapter  was  be- 
fore them. 

"Howdy,  Mars  Joe?"  cried  Johnny  Bapter 
joyously. 

"Why,  howdy,  Johnny  Bapter?"  Then  as 
the  children  came  up,  Maxwell  shut  both  eyes 
tight  and  said  :  "  Wait !  Johnny  Bapter,  I  '11 
bet  you  a  twist  of  tobacco  that  the  young  man 
over  there  is  Buster  John,  and  that  this  beautiful 
young  lady  over  here  is  Sweetest  Susan." 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  141 

While  he  was  speaking,  Johnny  Bapter  pushed 
the  children  around  deftly  so  that  they  exchanged 
positions. 

Then,  "  I  '11  take  de  bet !  "  exclaimed  Johnny 
Bapter. 

"  You  've  lost,"  said  young  Maxwell ;  "  look  at 
my  hand."  It  was  open ;  the  forefinger  was 
pointing  at  Buster  John,  and  the  little  finger  at 
Sweetest  Susan. 

This  sort  of  an  introduction  charmed  the  chil- 
dren, who  were  shy,  and  put  them  at  their  ease  at 
once. 

"  Here  's  your  tobacco,  Johnny  Bapter.  Now 
don't  feed  my  horse  till  I  come  out  to-night,  and 
do  put  him  in  a  dry  place  where  the  wind  can't 
strike  him,  and  if  you  have  time  wash  his  legs. 
The  roads  are  awful.  Hang  my  saddle  and  blan- 
ket on  the  side  fence  yonder.  I  '11  go  in  and  tell 
'em  howdy,  and  then  I  '11  come  out  and  look  after 
things." 

He  went  in  the  house  with  each  of  the  children 
holding  him  by  a  hand.  He  seemed  to  be  a  child 
with  them.  He  shook  hands  with  the  host  and 
with  the  other  guests,  and  excused  himself  on  the 
plea  that  he  wanted  to  have  a  frolic  with  the  chil- 


142  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

dren.  He  was  seventeen,  but  had  none  of  the 
characteristics  of  that  age.  He  was  even  more 
juvenile  in  his  actions  than  Sweetest  Susan.  He 
made  the  children  call  him  Joe,  and  asked  them 
if  there  was  a  shelter  where  he  could  put  his  sad- 
dle to  keep  it  out  of  the  dew. 

"Make  Johnny  Bapter  hang  it  up  with  the 
rest  in  the  carriage  house,"  suggested  Buster  John. 

"  No,"  said  young  Maxwell.  "  This  is  a  pecu- 
liar saddle.  It  has  a  dog  tied  to  it  by  an  invisible 
string."  Sure  enough  !  When  they  reached  the 
side  fence,  there  was  Hodb  lying  directly  under 
the  saddle  and  blanket,  which  Johnny  Bapter  had 
placed  on  the  fence.  "  You  can  see  the  dog  and 
saddle,"  remarked  Maxwell,  "but  you  can't  see 
the  string." 

Buster  John  suggested  the  old  carpenter  shop, 
a  long  shed  room,  the  entrance  to  which  had  no 
door.  There  was  a  pile  of  shavings  in  the  shop, 
and  Joe  Maxwell  said  it  was  the  very  place  of  all 
others.  So  he  placed  his  saddle  on  the  work- 
bench, kicked  the  shavings  together,  and  told 
Hodo  he  could  go  to  bed  and  pull  the  cover  over 
his  head  when  he  got  ready. 

"  Will  he  stay?"  Buster  John  asked. 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  143 

The  other  dogs  were  all  fastened  up  in  the 
blacksmith  shop  to  keep  them  from  going  home. 

Young  Maxwell  laughed.  "He'll  stay  there 
till  I  come  after  the  saddle,  unless  I  call  him  out." 

He  was  for  returning  to  the  house,  but  just 
then  the  children  saw  their  grandfather  and  his 
other  guests  coming  in  their  direction. 

"Maxwell,"  said  Mr.  Collingsworth,  "I've 
heard  a  heap  of  loose  talk  about  this  wonderful 
dog  of  yours.  I  lay  you  I  have  two  can  outfoot 
him  ;  Dennis  has  another,  and  Kilpatrick  another. 
Where 've  you  hid  him?  I  don't  mind  dark 
horses  in  politics ;  but  I  don't  like  dark  dogs  in 
fox  chases." 

"  Then  you  '11  not  like  Hodo,"  remarked  Joe 
Maxwell,  "  for  he 's  very  dark,  almost  black. 
Come,  Hodo." 

The  hound  instantly  came  from  the  shed,  and 
stood  looking  at  his  master,  his  head  turned  ex- 
pectantly to  one  side.  This  gesture,  as  you  may 
call  it,  was  somewhat  comical,  but  it  was  impres- 
sive, too.  Hodo  was  large  for  a  hound,  but  very 
compactly  built.  His  breast  bone  and  fore 
shoulders  were  very  prominent,  his  chest  was  deep 
and  full,  his  hams  were  almost  abnormally  devel- 


144  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

oped,  and  his  tail  ran  to  a  keen  point.  His  color 
was  glossy  black,  except  for  a  dash  of  brown  and 
white  on  his  breast  and  legs,  and  a  white  strip 
between  his  eyes.  His  ears  were  shorter  than 
those  of  the  average  pointer.  His  shape  and  build 
were  on  the  order  of  a  finely  bred  bull  terrier, 
only  on  a  very  much  larger  scale. 

"  You  call  that  a  hound  ?  "  remarked  Mr.  Col- 
lingsworth  jokingly. 

"  If  the  Birdsong  dogs  are  hounds,"  responded 
Joe  Maxwell. 

"He's  a  pretty  dog,"  said  Mr.  Kilpatrick, 
"  but  he  '11  have  some  warm  work  cut  out  for  him 
in  the  morning." 

During  this  brief  conversation  Buster  John  had 
approached  close  to  Hodo,  and  now  laid  his  hand 
on  the  dog  caressingly.  Hodo  flinched  as  if  he 
had  been  stung,  and  snarled  savagely,  but  in- 
stinct or  curiosity  caused  him  to  nose  the  young- 
ster, and  then  he  whined  and  wagged  his  tail 
joyously,  as  if  he  had  found  an  old  friend. 

"  Well,  well !  "  exclaimed  Maxwell ;  "  this  is 
the  first  time  I  have  ever  known  him  to  make 
friends  with  a  stranger.  He  has  two  faults,  a 
bad  temper  and  a  hard  head." 


HODO   FAWNED   ON    BUSTER  JOHN 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  145 

Hodo  fawned  on  Buster  John  and  whined  wist- 
fully. Once  he  curved  his  tail  in  a  peculiar 
fashion,  and  ran  around,  and  hither  and  yonder, 
as  if  he  were  keen  for  a  frolic.  Maxwell  was 
so  astonished  at  these  manifestations  that  he  could 
do  nothing  but  laugh.  Hodo's  antics,  however, 
had  attracted  attention  in  another  quarter.  A 
brindle  cur  belonging  to  one  of  the  negroes  took 
offense  at  the  playful  spirit  of  the  strange  dog, 
and  came  rushing  toward  him,  barking  ferociously. 
The  cur  was  as  large  as  Hodo,  and  quite  as  for- 
midable looking.  The  hound  heard  the  challenge 
and  rushed  to  accept  it,  and  the  two  dogs  came 
together  some  distance  from  the  spectators. 
There  was  a  fierce  wrangle  for  the  advantage, 
and  then  those  who  were  watching  the  contest 
saw  Hodo  dragging  the  cur  about  by  the  neck 
and  shaking  him  furiously.  When  Hodo  finally 
gave  him  his  liberty,  the  cur  ran  toward  the  ne- 
gro quarters. 

"  I  told  you  he  was  n't  a  hound !  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Collingsworth.  "  If  he  is,  he  's  not  a  com- 
mon hound." 

"I  agree  with  you  there,"  said  Joe  Maxwell, 
laughing. 


146  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Returning  from  his  encounter,  Hodo  went  to 
Buster  John  and  rubbed  his  head  against  the 
youngster,  and  followed  him  about.  This,  of 
course,  was  very  pleasing  to  Joe  Maxwell ;  for 
ordinarily  Hodo  was  very  vicious  with  strangers, 
and  especially  with  children. 

When  supper,  which  was  a  very  substantial 
meal,  had  been  discussed,  Joe  Maxwell  called  for 
Buster  John  and  the  two  went  to  the  lot.  On 
the  way  there  they  were  joined  by  Johnny  Bapter. 

"  Show  me  where  my  horse  is;  Johnny  Bapter," 
said  Joe  Maxwell. 

"  He  right  yonder,  suh,  in  de  best  stall  dey  is. 
His  legs  all  clean." 

"  Well,  Johnny  Bapter,  I  want  fifteen  ears  of 
corn,  not  the  biggest,  with  sound  ends,  and  two 
bundles  of  fodder.  Put  the  corn  in  the  trough, 
untie  the  bundles  of  fodder  outside,  and  whip  as 
much  of  the  dust  out  of  it  as  you  can.  And  then 
place  a  bucket  of  water  in  one  end  of  the  trough." 

This  was  all  very  quickly  and  deftly  done,  for 
Joe  Maxwell's  tobacco,  as  Johnny  Bapter  de- 
scribed it,  "  tasted  like  mo',"  and  the  way  to  get 
more  was  to  look  after  that  sorrel  horse. 

"  I  hope  you  are  going  along  with  us  in  the 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.       147 

morning,"  said  Joe  Maxwell  to  Buster  John,  as 
they  were  returning  to  the  house. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  could ! "  the  boy  exclaimed ; 
"  I  'd  give  anything  to  go,  but  mamma  says  I  'm 
too  young.  She 's  afraid  something  will  happen 
to  me." 

Young  Maxwell  laughed.  "  Why,  I  went  fox- 
hunting before  I  was  as  old  as  you.  Mr.  Dennis 
took  me  behind  him  twice,  because  I  promised  I 
would  n't  hunt  rabbits  with  his  fox  hounds." 

"  Please  tell  mamma  that !  "  cried  Buster  John. 

"  I  certainly  will,"  said  Maxwell. 

And  he  did.  As  soon  as  they  went  in  the 
house,  he  took  Buster  John  by  the  hand  and  went 
into  the  parlor  where  the  lady  was  entertaining 
her  guests  with  music  and  conversation.  She  was 
in  high  good  humor.  Her  eyes  sparkled  and  her 
laughter  was  pleasing  to  the  ear. 

"Come  in,  you  two  boys,"  she  cried  merrily. 
"  Here 's  a  comfortable  chair  by  me  —  shall  I 
call  you  Mr.  Maxwell  ?  I  used  to  call  you  Joe 
when  you  were  younger." 

"  Everybody  calls  me  Joe,"  said  Maxwell.  "  I 
have  come  to  ask  you  a  favor.  Will  you  allow 
Buster  John  to  go  hunting  with  us  to-morrow 
morning?" 


148  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Why,  who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing !  " 
"  Mr.  Dennis,  there,  has  heard  of  it  —  twice." 
The  lady  looked  at  Mr.  Dennis,  who  gave  an 

affirmative   nod.      "  How  would   he   go  ? "    she 

asked. 

"  On  my  horse,  behind  me." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  father  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  think  he  will  be  perfectly  safe  with 

Joe." 

"  Let  him  go,  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Dennis 

emphatically.     "  It  will  help  to  make  a  man  of 

him." 

"  But  two  on  a  horse  in  a  fox  chase  !     Why, 

it 's  ridiculous,"  exclaimed  the  lady.     "  The  horse 

would  break  down  in  half  an  hour." 

"  How  much  does  Buster  John  weigh  ? "  Joe 

Maxwell  asked. 

"  Fifty-five,"  said  Buster  John  proudly. 

"  Then  the  horse  would  carry  a  hundred  and 

forty  pounds.     Mr.  Dennis  weighs  at  least  thirty 

pounds  more  than  that,  and  he 's  the  smallest  man 

in  the  party." 

There  was  nothing  for  the  mother  to  do  but 

give  her  consent,  though  she  gave  it  with  many 

misgivings,  as  mothers  will,  and  with  many  ad- 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  149 

monitions  to  Joe  Maxwell  to  take  care  of  the  boy, 
which  he  faithfully  promised  to  do. 

To  make  sure  that  he  would  not  be  left  behind, 
Buster  John  begged  to  be  allowed  to  sleep  in  the 
room  with  Maxwell.  This  point  was  easily  carried, 
and  the  youngster  went  off  to  bed  triumphantly, 
an  hour  earlier  than  usual.  He  was  asleep  when 
the  hounds  were  fed  on  warm  corn-bread,  espe- 
cially prepared  for  them ;  and  he  was  far  in  the 
land  of  dreams  when,  a  little  later,  Joe  Maxwell 
carried  Hodo  his  supper,  which  Jemimy  (bribed 
with  tobacco  for  her  pipe)  had  "  saved  out  "  for 
him.  It  was  not  large  in  amount,  but  carefully 
selected,  and  no  doubt  Hodo  enjoyed  it,  for  he 
made  no  complaint  about  it. 

Buster  John,  as  has  been  said,  went  to  bed 
happy  and  triumphant,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  been  in  bed  but  a  few  moments  when  he 
felt  Joe  Maxwell  shaking  and  rolling  him  about 
and  heard  him  crying  out :  — 

"  Where  's  this  famous  fox-hunter  who  was  to 
go  along  and  take  care  of  me  this  morning  ?  The 
horses  are  all  ready,  breakfast  is  ready  (so  Jemimy 
says),  and  everybody  is  ready  except  the  Great 
North  American  Fox-Hunter,  known  far  and  wide 


150  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

as  Buster  John.  What  can  be  the  matter  with 
him?" 

In  this  way  Buster  John  was  aroused  to  the 
realities,  and  he  remembered  with  a  thrill  of  de- 
light that  this  was  to  be  the  day  of  days,  so  far 
as  he  was  concerned.  He  leaped  from  the  bed 
and  was  dressed  in  a  jiffy. 

"Don't  wake  the  house,  my  son,"  said  Joe 
MaxweU  solemnly.  "  There 's  your  overcoat  your 
mother  sent  up  last  night ;  the  air  is  chilly 
this  morning.  There  was  a  cold  rain  during  the 
night." 

"  But  you  have  no  overcoat,"  remarked  Buster 
John. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  tough,"  replied  Joe  MaxweU.  "  I  've 
been  out  to  look  after  my  horse  and  dog.  They 
are  both  prime,  and  the  weather  is  prime.  If  the 
fox  we  are  going  after  is  a  friend  of  yours,  you 
may  as  well  bid  him  good-by  this  morning." 

"  He 's  very  cunning,"  explained  Buster  John. 
"A  great  many  dogs  have  chased  him.  He  is 
called  Scar-Face." 

"  I  've  heard  of  him  many  a  time,"  replied  Joe 
Maxwell.  "  That 's  the  reason  I  'm  here  to-day. 
If  he's  in  the  neighborhood  this  morning,  and 
you  get  a  good  chance,  tell  him  good-by." 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  151 

"  I  think  he  knows  all  about  this  hunt,"  Bus- 
ter John  ventured  to  say. 

"  Oh,  does  he  ?  Well,  it  will  be  a  mighty  good 
thing  for  him  if  he  has  moved  his  quarters  ;  but 
we  '11  beat  around  and  about,  and  see  if  he  won't 
give  us  a  dare." 

"  I  know  where  he  used  to  stay,"  said  Buster 
John.  He  didn't  know  whether  he  was  doing 
right  or  wrong.  "  Aaron  showed  me." 

"Aaron?  Well,  Aaron  knows  all  about  it, 
and  he  knows  a  good  deal  more  than  that.  Some 
of  these  days  I  'm  going  to  write  a  book  about 
Aaron." 

"  Sure  enough  !  "  cried  Buster  John.  "  I  can 
tell  you  lots  of  things  to  put  in  it.  I  can  tell  you 
things  that  nobody  would  believe  if  they  had  n't 
seen  'em." 

"  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11  do,"  said  Joe 
Maxwell.  "  We  '11  make  a  bargain  :  you  shall 
tail  the  fox  to-day  if  you'll  tell  me  all  about 
Aaron." 

Buster  John  agreed,  and  the  two  shook  hands 
over  the  contract  in  the  most  solemn  fashion.  In 
a  few  moments  they  were  eating  breakfast,  which 
was  a  very  good  one  for  that  part  of  the  country, 


152  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

even  if  the  coffee  was  made  of  parched  rye  and 
sweetened  with  honey.  Shortly  afterwards  the 
hunters  were  ready  to  ride  to  the  field.  It  was 
still  dark,  but  dawn  was  beginning  to  show  itself, 
and  by  the  time  the  final  start  was  made  —  the 
children's  grandfather  having  to  give  some  direc- 
tions to  Aaron  —  dawn  was  fairly  upon  them,  and 
the  chickens  were  fluttering  from  their  roosts  to 
the  ground,  and  walking  dubiously  about  in  the 
half-light. 

Now,  old  Scar-Face,  confident  of  his  powers, 
had  done  a  very  foolish  thing.  During  the  night, 
and  while  the  rain  was  still  falling,  he  had  ven- 
tured to  reconnoitre  the  Abercrombie  place.  He 
came  out  of  the  sedge-field  through  the  bars, 
crossed  the  road,  and  went  sneaking  as  far  as  the 
gin-house.  Here  he  stopped  and  listened.  The 
night  was  still,  but  his  quick  ears  heard  noises  that 
would  have  been  imperceptible  to  human  ears  — 
the  playful  squeak  of  a  rat  somewhere  in  the  gin- 
house,  a  field  mouse  skipping  through  the  weeds, 
the  fluttering  wings  of  some  night  bird.  He 
heard  the  barking  of  dogs,  too,  but  not  a  strange 
voice  among  them.  He  heard  the  Spivey  catch- 
dog,  with  his  gruff  and  threatening  bark.  Far 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  153 

away  he  heard  a  hound  howling  mournfully. 
The  hound  was  evidently  tied.  Close  at  hand 
barked  the  cur  that  had  challenged  Hodo ;  he 
had  not  yet  recovered  his  good  humor. 

But  not  a  strange  voice  came  to  his  ears.  This 
was  easily  accounted  for.  The  hounds  that  were 
to  pursue  him  had  been  comfortably  fed,  and  were 
now  fast  asleep,  while  Hodo  was  curled  up  in  the 
shavings,  dreaming  that  he  had  his  mouth  right 
on  a  fleeing  fox,  but  couldn't  seize  him.  He 
whined  and  moved  his  limbs  as  he  dreamed,  and 
a  prowling  cat,  that  had  paused  to  investigate 
the  noise  in  the  shavings,  flitted  away.  All  the 
sounds  that  came  to  old  Scar-Face's  ears  were 
familiar ;  so  from  the  gin-house  he  sneaked  to 
the  barn,  as  noiselessly  as  a  ghost,  pausing  on  the 
way  to  listen.  Hearing  nothing,  he  went  further 
until  he  was  under  the  eaves  of  the  barn,  in  one 
end  of  which  the  horses  of  the  huntsmen  were 
stabled.  Here  he  stopped  and  listened  for  some 
time.  What  could  the  silence  mean  ?  Peeping 
from  the  sedge-field  during  the  afternoon,  he  had 
seen  more  than  one  horse  and  rider  pass  along  the 
road,  and  several  whiffs  of  strange  dogs  came  to 
his  sensitive  nose.  He  concluded  that  these  men 


154  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

and  dogs  meant  another  chase  after  him  j  but  he 
was  not  certain,  and  so  came  forth  in  the  dark 
to  investigate. 

Usually  when  hounds  are  taken  away  from 
home  and  fastened  up  out  of  sight  of  their  mas- 
ters, some  of  the  younger  ones  will  get  lonely  and 
begin  to  bark  and  howl.  Old  Scar-Face  knew 
this  well,  but  he  did  n't  know  that  seasoned  dogs 
rarely  ever  make  such  a  demonstration  unless 
they  are  hungry.  Consequently,  when  he  heard 
no  barking  and  howling,  he  was  almost  convinced 
that,  after  a  night's  foray,  he  could  return  to  the 
sedge-field  and  sleep  undisturbed  the  next  day. 
Still  there  was  a  doubt,  and  to  ease  his  fears  he 
decided  to  test  the  matter  more  fully. 

On  a  fence  near  him  a  hen  and  half  a  dozen 
pullets  were  peacefully  roosting.  He  crept  up 
directly  under  the  hen,  gathered  his  strong  legs 
under  him,  leaped  upwards,  and  the  next  moment 
was  cantering  through  the  dry  weeds  dragging 
the  squalling  hen  by  the  wing.  Surely  the  racket 
was  sufficient  to  alarm  the  plantation.  At  the 
barn  he  dropped  the  hen,  placed  a  forefoot  firmly 
upon  her,  and  held  his  head  high  to  listen. 
There  was  certainly  a  loud  response  to  the  hen's 


PEEPING   FROM   THE   SEDGE-FIELD 


BUSTER  JOHN  SEES  HODO.  155 

alarm.  The  geese  in  the  spring-lot  made  a  tre- 
mendous outcry,  seconded  by  the  guineas,  but 
the  only  dog  that  barked  was  the  cur  that  made 
the  mistake  of  attacking  Hodo. 

This  certainly  seemed  to  be  a  fair  test,  and  old 
Scar-Face  was  satisfied.  He  crushed  the  poor 
hen's  neck  in  his  cruel  jaws,  and  put  an  end  to 
her  appeal  for  help.  He  was  not  very  hungry, 
but  he  carried  the  hen  home,  promising  himself 
a  hearty  breakfast  in  the  morning.  He  ate  a 
good  ration,  however,  and  then  curled  himself 
snugly  together  until  he  looked  like  a  big  ball  of 
yellow  fur. 

He  was  awake  early  the  next  morning,  but  be- 
fore he  was  half  through  his  breakfast  the  light 
of  day  was  beginning  to  creep  under  the  briars ; 
then  he  heard  a  long,  mournful  wail  at  the  Aber- 
crombie  place,  followed  by  another.  How  often 
he  had  heard  this  wail !  It  was  the  cry  of  fox- 
hounds. He  stayed  not  to  hear  it  repeated,  but 
skipped  out  into  the  gray  dawn,  like  the  shadow 
of  Fear  stealing  away  from  the  light. 


X. 

HODO   GETS   HIS   BLOOD   UP. 

OLD  Scar-Face  would  have  had  quite  a  shivery 
feeling  if  he  had  known  that  the  wailing  cry  he 
heard  was  the  voice  of  Mr.  Kilpatrick's  Music, 
telling  the  rest  of  the  hounds  that  she  had  dis- 
covered the  drag  of  a  fox.  Although  Joe  Max- 
well, with  Buster  John  behind  him,  and  Hodo 
trotting  in  a  dignified  way  at  his  horse's  heels, 
had  gone  directly  into  the  public  road  by  way  o£ 
the  gate  near  the  spring,  the  rest  of  the  hunts- 
men, led  by  the  White -Haired  Master,  went 
through  the  gin-house  lot.  The  dogs,  delighted 
to  be  free  once  more,  and  enthusiastic  over  the 
prospect  of  a  chase,  went  galloping  about  the 
place,  nosing  in  every  corner ;  not  because  they 
expected  to  find  the  scent  of  a  fox  thereabouts, 
but  because  it  is  their  nature. 

It  fell  to  the  lot  of  Music  to  pass  near  the  spot 
where  old  Scar-Face  had  caught  the  hen  the 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  157 

night  before.  A  few  feathers  were  lying  scat- 
tered about.  These  Music  investigated,  and  im- 
mediately her  nose  made  an  important  discovery. 
A  fox  had  passed  that  way  !  Whereupon  she 
lifted  up  her  voice  to  warn  the  whole  pack.  Some 
responded,  while  others  thought  it  was  a  piece  of 
folly,  and  went  trotting  along  about  their  busi- 
ness. But  Music  persisted. 

Mr.  Collingsworth  stopped  his  horse  and  lis- 
tened. "  That 's  a  fox  as  sure  as  the  world,"  said 
he. 

"  Pooh  !  "  cried  Mr.  Dennis  contemptuously  ; 
"  you  Ve  been  training  your  dogs  with  a  cat  skin. 
Call  the  silly  creature  off,  or  you  will  have  the 
whole  pack  going  at  full  cry  after  a  neighborhood 
tomcat." 

Just  then  Mr.  Dennis's  Ruth  put  in :  "  What 
did  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  insisted.  "  If  there 's  a  fox 
within  a  radius  of  five  miles,  this  chase  of  a  tom- 
cat will  scare  him  out  of  the  country." 

"Wait!"  said  Mr.  Kirkpatrick.  "I  hear 
Whalebone  trying  to  whimper,  and  I  know 
mighty  well  he  's  not  interested  in  cats." 

The  rain  had  taken  a  good  deal  of  the  snap 
out  of  the  drag,  as  Joe  Maxwell  explained  to 


158  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Buster  John  afterward,  but  the  hounds  knew 
their  business.  They  flung  themselves  about  try- 
ing to  hit  upon  a  fresher  scent,  but  finally  worked 
back  to  the  gin-house,  from  the  gin-house  to  the 
road,  and  along  the  road  to  the  bars.  They 
worked  very  quietly.  Music's  warning  wail  had 
not  been  repeated,  but  she,  as  well  as  the  rest, 
knuckled  down  to  business,  working  with  occa- 
sional whines  and  half -barks. 

Joe  Maxwell  and  Buster  John  had  already  ar- 
rived at  the  bars  that  opened  into  the  sedge-field. 
When  Hodo  saw  that  all  the  rest  of  the  hounds 
were  coming  in  his  direction,  he  lost  his  dignity 
so  far  as  to  examine  the  ground  near  the  bars. 

"  If  that  fox  was  fool  enough  to  go  down  to 
the  barn  during  the  night,  he  's  fool  enough  to 
stay  in  this  field  until  he  heard  Music  bark  a 
while  ago.  If  that 's  so,  he  '11  never  run  ahead 
of  the  dogs  any  more."  This  was  Joe  Maxwell's 
conclusion. 

Old  Fountain,  somewhat  belated  (for  his  going 
had  not  been  decided  on  till  the  last  moment), 
came  galloping  up,  riding  a  mule,  dismounted, 
and  flung  down  the  bars.  Somehow,  it  seemed 
to  Buster  John  that  flinging  down  the  bars  had 


JOE    MAXWELL,   WITH    BUSTER  JOHN  .  .   .  AND   HODO 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  159 

brought  daylight;  for,  as  the  last  one  fell,  he 
looked  about  him,  and  everything  was  plainly 
visible.  He  could  see  the  rest  of  the  hunters 
coming  along  the  lane  that  led  from  the  gin-house 
lot,  and  he  could  see  Hodo  cantering  rapidly 
toward  the  pine  thicket,  where  old  Scar-Face  had 
come  at  Aaron's  call. 

"  When  he  's  up,  where  does  he  run  ?  "  Joe 
Maxwell  asked  Fountain. 

"  Straight  to'rds  de  p'int  er  woods  'cross  yan- 
der,  an'  den  he  b'ars  ter  de  lef  —  allers  ter  de 
lef." 

At  this  instant  Hodo  gave  a  fierce  challenge, 
to  which  Joe  Maxwell  responded  with  a  cheerful 
halloo  that  brought  all  the  dogs  into  the  field 
with  their  heads  up.  The  clouds  had  now  blown 
away  from  the  east,  and  the  level  beams  of  the 
rising  sun  fell  upon  the  tops  of  the  pines. 

"  Name  er  de  Lord  !  Look  at  dat  dog  !  "  ex- 
claimed old  Fountain.  Hodo  had  issued  from 
the  clump  of  pines  and  was  now  leaping  in  the 
air  above  the  level  of  the  sedge  and  running 
wildly  about.  The  rest  of  the  dogs  were  even 
more  excited.  They  ran  around,  giving  tongue 
and  acting  as  if  the  fox  was  right  under  their 


160  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

noses.  But  Hodo  suddenly  ceased  his  antics, 
challenged  twice,  and  was  away,  followed  by  the 
whole  pack,  their  voices  rhyming  and  chiming 
in  the  crisp  morning  air.  Involuntarily  Buster 
John  squeezed  Joe  Maxwell  as  hard  as  he  could. 
He  was  deliriously  happy. 

He  felt  a  pang,  however,  when  he  saw  the  rest 
of  the  hunters  galloping  helter-skelter  after  the 
dogs,  while  he  and  Joe  Maxwell  were  ambling 
along  in  a  direction  that  seemed  gradually  to  lead 
away  from  them.  Butterfly,  however,  was  run- 
ning toward  a  hill  in  which  the  sedge-field  culmi- 
nated, and  from  this  point  a  wide  expanse  of 
country  lay  under  the  eye. 

Joe  Maxwell  looked  at  his  watch,  and  found 
that  only  five  minutes  had  passed  since  Hodo  had 
led  the  hunt  away  from  the  clump  of  pines  near 
which  old  Scar-Pace  made  his  home.  The  young 
man  gave  Butterfly  his  head,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  which, 
though  not  high,  was  the  highest  point  for  many 
miles.  The  sun,  shining  at  their  backs,  threw  a 
flood  of  yellow  light  on  their  hunt.  Buster  John 
could  see  his  grandfather,  tall  and  straight,  riding 
after  the  hounds,  flanked  on  either  side  by  the 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  161 

rest  of  the  huntsmen,  while  old  Fountain  brought 
up  the  rear,  belaboring  his  mount  with  a  brush 
broken  from  some  convenient  tree. 

The  dogs  could  be  heard,  but  they  were  not  in 
sight.  They  were  running  through  the  point 
of  woods  to  which  old  Fountain  had  referred. 
While  Buster  John  was  looking  at  the  hunters, 
Joe  Maxwell  ran  his  eye  along  the  horizon  to  the 
left  and  caught  sight  of  the  fox  going  as  swiftly 
as  the  shadow  of  a  flying  bird.  He  tried  to  show 
this  swiftly  moving  shadow  to  Buster  John,  and 
finally  succeeded ;  and  then  it  vanished. 

"  Great  goodness  !  "  exclaimed  Maxwell  glee- 
fully ;  "  he  must  have  stopped  to  catch  a  rat. 
What  is  he  thinking  about  ?  He  won't  last  forty 
minutes." 

"  Why,  he 's  a  mile  or  more  ahead  of  the 
dogs,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  A  mile  and  a  quarter,"  admitted  Maxwell, 
measuring  the  distance  with  his  eye.  "  Wait  till 
I  send  word  to  Hodo." 

Prompt  as  an  echo  a  black  shadow  hurled  it- 
self from  the  woods,  and  went  careering  across 
the  open  country.  Joe  Maxwell  raised  himself 
in  his  stirrups,  placed  both  hands  to  his  mouth, 


162  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

and  uttered  three  short,  sharp,  shrill  yells  that 
cut  through  the  air  like  a  whiplash.  Hodo  an- 
swered with  a  roar,  and  seemed  to  grow  smaller. 
Certainly  he  increased  his  speed.  The  rest  of 
the  dogs,  headed  by  Whalebone,  Ruth,  and  Mu- 
sic, were  by  this  time  well  out  of  the  woods,  and 
the  hunters,  who  were  not  far  away,  cheered  them 
on.  They  were  running  beautifully,  and  Joe 
Maxwell  could  afford  to  say  so. 

"  They  '11  not  be  far  away  when  the  end 
comes,"  he  remarked.  "  And  if  that  old  fox  has 
any  grit  in  him,  he  '11  be  caught  somewhere  be- 
tween this  hill  and  the  point  of  woods  the  dogs 
came  out  of." 

"  Why,  he 's  running  away  from  here,"  cried 
Buster  John. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Joe  Maxwell,  "  and  before 
many  minutes  have  passed,  he  '11  discover  that 
he  can't  play  the  old  game.  But  if  this  is  n't  the 
old  fox  we're  after,  we'll  never  see  the  dogs 
catch  him.  They  '11  be  coming  back  presently, 
and  we  '11  have  to  see  if  there  's  any  hair  between 
their  teeth.  If  it  is  the  old  fox,  he  '11  run  away 
till  he  hears  Hodo  close  at  hand,  and  then  he  '11 
get  scared  and  try  to  reach  home  again." 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  163 

"  The  rest  are  following  the  dogs,"  said  Buster 
John  ruefully,  as  he  saw  them  galloping  in  the 
sunlight. 

"  And  you  are  sorry  you  're  not  with  'em  ? " 
suggested  Joe  Maxwell.  "  Well,  they  '11  see  no 
more  of  the  race  than  we  have  seen,  even  if  we  're 
after  the  wrong  fox.  If  we  are  after  the  right 
one,  we  '11  probably  have  him  ready  for  their 
inspection  by  the  time  they  get  back.  But  we  're 
not  going  to  stand  here,"  he  said  reassuringly. 
"  We  are  going  to  gallop  over  there  and  be  ready 
to  put  Hodo  right  at  his  heels  when  he  comes 
back." 

This  they  did.  In  fact,  Butterfly  was  chafing 
at  the  bit.  Joe  Maxwell  let  him  have  his  head 
on  the  firm  Bermuda  turf,  and  he  went  flying 
along  in  a  way  that  thrilled  Buster  John.  A  mile 
of  this  sort  of  traveling  was  enough  to  satisfy 
Butterfly's  ambition  for  a  while,  and  he  was 
willing  to  stand  quietly  when  his  rider  finally 
drew  rein.  The  dogs  could  be  heard  running  far 
away,  their  voices  borne  back  on  the  morning 
breeze  like  the  echoes  of  melodious  complainings. 
Joe  Maxwell  looked  at  his  watch  again.  The 
hunt  had  been  going  on  twenty  minutes. 


164  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  That 's  the  right  fox,"  said  the  young  fellow, 
{( and  he 's  pretty  game,  or  he  would  have  made 
his  double  before  this." 

Finally  the  dogs  went  out  of  hearing  alto- 
gether, and  Buster  John  took  advantage  of  that 
fact  to  follow  with  his  finger  on  Maxwell's  leg 
the  entire  outline  of  the  triple  loop  by  means  of 
which  old  Scar-Face  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
throwing  his  pursuers  off. 

"If  he  had  had  an  hour's  start,"  said  Maxwell, 
"  this  would  have  been  a  pretty  performance,  but 
he 's  had  his  work  cut  out  for  him  this  morning. 
Maybe  he  was  making  one  of  his  loops  beyond 
the  point  of  woods  yonder.  Yes,  sir !  That 's 
just  what  he  was  up  to !  The  dogs  came  out  of 
the  woods  not  twenty-five  yards  from  where  they 
went  in." 

"  Suppose  the  dogs  have  caught  him  ? "  sug- 
gested Buster  John,  who  was  all  for  action. 

"  No ;  they  're  coming  back,"  replied  Max- 
well. 

"  I  don't  hear  them,"  said  Buster  John. 

"Nor  I,"  Maxwell  admitted;  "but  Butterfly 
does." 

And  sure  enough  the  thin  and  sensitive  ears  of 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD  UP.  165 

the  horse  pointed  forward,  and  he  was  listening 
intently.  Presently  a  murmuring,  singing  sound 
was  heard,  like  the  humming  of  bees.  It  grew 
louder  by  degrees,  and  seemed  to  be  coming 
nearer  and  nearer. 

"  He  's  due  here  pretty  soon,  if  he 's  on  sche- 
dule time,"  said  Joe  Maxwell,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Keep  perfectly  still.  Don't  move.  I  want  you 
to  see  how  Hodo  manages  this  sort  of  thing." 

As  the  dogs  topped  a  distant  hill,  their  voices 
sounded  like  a  clash  of  cymbals,  with  full  brass 
band  accompaniment.  They  seemed  to  be  nearer 
than  they  really  were. 

"  Yonder  he  comes,"  said  Buster  John,  under 
his  breath.  He  had  his  hand  on  Joe  Maxwell's 
arm,  and  he  indicated  the  position  of  old  Scar- 
Face  with  his  thumb. 

The  old  fox  was  running  bravely.  He  showed 
none  of  the  usual  symptoms  of  defeat  or  even 
fatigue.  His  brush  was  well  up,  and  he  was 
going  very  nimbly  and  rapidly.  He  soon  disap- 
peared, and  the  music  of  the  pack  died  away  as 
the  dogs  descended  into  the  depression  below  the 
hill.  Then  came  the  sharp,  eager  cry  of  Hodo, 
close  at  hand.  The  watchers  saw  him  come  over 


166  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

a  fence  one  hundred  yards  away,  like  a  bird,  and 
he  ran  toward  them  with  head  up  and  tail  down. 
Evidently  his  hlood  was  up. 

He  swept  by  some  distance  from  the  point 
where  the  fox  had  passed,  and  Buster  John  de- 
clared that  he  was  not  on  the  track  at  all.  Joe 
Maxwell  made  no  reply,  but  gave  to  Hodo  the 
signal  which  told  the  dog  that  the  fox  was  not 
far  away.  Again,  as  before,  the  dog  increased 
his  speed,  bearing  closer  to  the  drag,  and  this 
time  Joe  Maxwell,  with  Buster  John  behind  him, 
rode  rapidly  in  a  parallel  direction. 

"  I  give  him  five  more  minutes,"  said  Hodo's 
master ;  "  but  he 's  certainly  a  game  old  fox." 

Faster  and  faster  went  Butterfly  for  several 
hundred  yards,  and  then  suddenly  drew  rein. 
The  valley  before  them  afforded  a  plain  view, 
except  for  a  ditch  which  ran  through  the  middle. 
The  dampness  there  had  attracted  a  growth  of 
alders,  brambles,  and  such  weeds  and  shrubbery 
as  thrive  where  the  ground  is  wet.  On  either 
side  of  this  ditch  there  was  a  clear  space  of  Ber- 
muda turf,  dotted  here  and  there  with  small  pine 
bushes.  On  the  further  side  of  this  ditch  Hodo 
was  running.  Suddenly  he  turned,  crossed  the 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  167 

ditch,  and  came  flying  back,  while  Joe  Maxwell 
rode  toward  him  as  fast  as  Butterfly  could  go. 
Again  Hodo  crossed  the  ditch,  and  as  he  did  so 
old  Scar-Face  came  out  on  the  opposite  side  and 
went  careering  across  the  open  field.  In  a  series 
of  wild  yells  Joe  Maxwell  gave  Hodo  the  view 
halloo,  and  in  another  moment  the  dog  flung 
himself  across  the  ditch  again,  and  had  old  Scar- 
Face  in  plain  view. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  never  in  the  course  of  his 
life  will  Buster  John  ever  experience  such  sensa- 
tions as  he  then  had,  or  behold  such  another 
spectacle  as  was  there  enacted  before  his  eyes. 
He  could  only  vaguely  remember  that  he  heard 
the  cry  of  dogs  behind  him,  and  that  the  voice  of 
Hodo  sounded  like  a  deep  and  continuous  mur- 
mur. Within  the  course  of  fifty  yards  the  dog 
overran  the  fox  and  turned  and  caught  him  before 
old  Scar-Face  could  get  himself  under  way. 

And  the  funny  part  of  it  was  that  all  the  other 
dogs  were  up  in  time  to  give  the  dead  fox  a  good 
shaking  before  he  got  cold. 

When  the  hunters  came  up,  Mr.  Collingsworth 
pretended  to  believe  that  Rocket  had  killed  the 
fox,  and  Buster  John  was  astonished  to  see  that 


168  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Joe  Maxwell  claimed  nothing  for  Hodo.  Mr. 
Dennis  insisted  that  Rowan  or  Ruth  was  the  guilty 
party,  while  Mr.  Kilpatrick  declared  that  if  kill- 
ing foxes  was  a  hanging  crime,  he  would  n't  give 
a  thrip  for  Whalebone's  life.  These  remarks 
were  all  jokes,  some  of  them  as  old  as  the  men 
that  made  them.  But  Buster  John  did  n't  know 
that. 

"  Why,  the  other  dogs  were  not  in  sight  when 
Hodo  and  the  fox  came  into  the  field,  and  they 
did  n't  come  up  till  the  fox  was  caught  and 
killed,"  Buster  John  asserted. 

This  statement  seemed  to  make  no  impression 
on  the  others.  "  Abercrombie,  make  the  boy  tell 
you  to-night  how  much  Maxwell  gave  him  to  talk 
that  way,"  remarked  Mr.  Collingsworth. 

Seeing  that  Buster  John's  feelings  were  hurt, 
Joe  Maxwell  turned  to  him  laughing.  "  They  're 
only  joking,"  he  explained.  "  They  know  very 
well  that  their  dogs  could  never  have  caught  this 
fox." 

"  Why,  Hodo  was  running  him  all  around  here 
like  a  rabbit  before  the  rest  of  the  dogs  were  in 
sight,  and  before  they  did  get  in  sight  he  had 
killed  him,"  exclaimed  Buster  John. 


THE   DOG  .  .  .  HAD   OLD   SCAR-FACE    IN  PLAIN   VIEW 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  169 

"I  believe  you,"  cried  Mr.  Collings worth. 
"  That  dog  of  yours  is  a  freak,  Maxwell ;  there  '11 
never  be  another  like  him.  We'll  have  dogs 
that  can  catch  red  foxes  —  this  pack  here  can  do 
it  any  day  in  the  week ;  but  we  '11  never  see 
another  dog  with  the  '  go '  in  him  that  your  dog 's 
got.  Why,  he 's  venomous.  Back  yonder  he 
crashed  through  a  briar  patch  just  like  he  'd  been 
shot  out  of  a  cannon,  and  his  nose  —  well,  he 
does  n't  have  to  run  on  the  drag  at  all,  much 
less  put  his  head  to  the  ground.  I  never  saw 
anything  like  it  in  my  life.  There  ain't  a  fox  in 
the  world  that  can  stand  up  before  him  fifty 
minutes.  Look  at  him !  The  other  dogs  are 
tired  out,  and  he  's  walking  around  as  fresh  as  a 
daisy.  No,  sir  !  we  '11  never  see  his  like  again." 

"  What 's  your  opinion,  Fountain  ?  "  asked  the 
White-Haired  Master. 

Fountain  shook  his  head  and  dismounted  from 
his  mule,  under  pretense  of  fixing  a  buckle  or 
strap. 

"  Well,  suh,"  he  said  with  fervor,  "  I  has  seed 
dogs  in  my  time;  I  has  seed  dem  what  dey  said 
could  run,  an'  I  has  seed  dem  what  I  b'lieved 
could  run,  but  not  befo'  dis  day  has  deze  eyes 


170  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

seed  a  dog  what  could  reely  run.  Onless,  suh, 
7t  wuz  dem  ar  greyhoun's  what  b'long  ter  Mars 
Billy  Ross.  Dem  dogs  has  got  de  body  an'  de 
legs,  but  dey  ain't  got  de  head  an'  de  win'  er  dish 
yer  Hodo.  Give  um  a  mile  dash  in  open  groun* 
an'  maybe  dey  could  git  dar  'fo'  dish  yer  dog, 
but  when  it  come  ter  brush  an'  briar  and  cane- 
brake,  dey  would  n't  show  up  nowhar  close  ter 
dat  dog  dar.  Yes  —  yes,  suh  !  —  ef  you  'd  'a* 
seed  what  I  seed,  you  'd  'a'  rubbed  yo'  eyes  like 
I  did." 

"  What  did  you  see,  Fountain  ?  "  inquired  the 
White-Haired  Master. 

"  Well,  suh,  a  breff  of  win'  will  tell  it,  but  a 
preacher  would  n't  make  you  b'lieve  it."  Foun- 
tain threw  his  head  back  and  placed  the  fore- 
finger of  his  right  hand  in  the  palm  of  his  left. 
"  When  ol'  Scour-Face  made  his  turn  fer  ter  come 
back,  he  made  it  like  a  mule  shoe  —  a  wide  sweep 
at  de  top,  but  narrer,  as  you  may  say,  at  de  heels. 
De  top  er  de  turn  mought  'a'  been  a  mile  broad 
—  you-all  may  know  better  'bout  dat  dan  me  — 
but  at  de  narrer  part  a  man  stan'in'  in  de  middle 
could  'a'  seed  de  dogs  gwine,  an'  could  'a'  seed  um 
comin'.  I  know,  bekaze  I  seed  whar  dey  went 


HODO  GETS  HIS  BLOOD   UP.  171 

down  a  gully,  an'  I  wuz  settin'  on  dish  yer  mule 
in  sight  er  de  gully  when  I  hear  dat  ar  dog 
fetchin'  ol'  Scour-Face  back. 

"  De  fox,  suh,  come  by  me  not  twenty  yards 
off,  an'  by  de  time  he  make  his  disappearance  I 
hear  dat  dog  open  up  not  a  hunderd  yards  behin', 
an'  he  come  by  me,  suh,  des  like  a  bird  a-flyin'. 
I  fetched  a  whoop  or  two  —  you  know  how  I  kin 
holler,  suh  —  an'  de  dog  tuck  a  seven-rail  fence 
an'  never  tetched  it ;  no,  suh,  he  never  tetched  it. 
You  '11  not  b'lieve  it,  suh,  an'  I  don't  blame  you ; 
but  I  kin  show  you  whar  de  dog  riz,  an'  whar  he 
lit.  You  won't  skacely  b'lieve  de  tale  yo'  eyes  '11 
tell  you  when  you  see  it ;  but  dar  's  de  signs,  suh, 
printed,  as  you  may  say,  in  de  groun'.  I  fully 
'spected  he  'd  ketch  de  fox  right  den  an'  dar ;  but 
ol'  Scour-Face  wuz  a  terror,  suh,  when  it  come 
ter  gittin'  over  groun'.  But  dat  dog  —  you  may 
look  at  'im  yo'se'f,  suh ;  all  de  rest  pantin'  fit  ter 
kill,  an'  layin'  down,  an'  him  paradin'  roun'  here, 
smellin'  de  bushes  an'  lookin'  like  he  ain't  been  in 
no  chase.  I  said  den,  when  he  flung  hisse'f  over 
de  fence,  '  I  '11  look  at  you  right  close  de  fust 
chance  I  git,  kaze  dey  ain't  no  mo'  like  you,  an* 
never  is  ter  be  !  " 


172  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

In  this  matter  Old  Fountain's  judgment  was  as 
good  as  the  best.  Hodo  had  no  forbears  to  ac- 
count for  his  phenomenal  gifts  of  nose  and  head 
and  speed,  and  he  left  no  posterity  to  succeed. 
He  stands  alone  among  fox  hounds,  unique  and 
incomparable. 


XI. 

CAWKY,    THE    CROW. 

AFTER  the  fox  hunt,  Buster  John  felt  that  he 
had  recovered  some  lost  ground,  as  the  saying  is. 
Up  to  that  time  he  had  been  somewhat  handi- 
capped by  the  experiences  of  Sweetest  Susan. 
You  will  remember  that  it  was  Sweetest  Susan 
who  discovered  the  Grandmother  of  the  Dolls. 
This  was  a  very  important  discovery,  too,  for  it 
led  to  the  acquaintance  of  little  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger,  and  to  the  queer  adventures  of  the  children 
in  the  country  next  door  to  the  world.  More 
than  that,  Sweetest  Susan  had  been  kidnapped  by 
the  crazy  man.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that 
Buster  John  should  feel  "  put  out,"  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  by  these  events.  But  his  talk  with 
Mr.  Bobs  had  led  him  to  the  manufacture  of  the 
wonderful  bubble,  and  now  he  had  witnessed  a 
real  fox  hunt,  perhaps  the  most  interesting  one 
that  ever  occurred  in  all  that  part  of  the  country. 


174  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

He  didn't  put  on  any  airs  about  it,  as  some 
boys  would  have  done,  but  he  took  pains  to  relate 
every  event  to  his  sister  and  Brasilia,  just  as  it 
occurred,  as  far  as  he  could  remember  it ;  and  he 
patiently  answered  every  question  they  asked  him. 
For  a  long  time  the  story  of  the  fox  hunt  was 
the  only  piece  of  oral  literature  the  children  had 
to  discuss,  but  there  was  always  something  new 
to  be  said  of  Hodo,  or  the  sorrel  horse,  or  Joe 
Maxwell. 

Sweetest  Susan  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel 
sorry  for  old  Scar-Face  or  not.  Sometimes  she 
was  inclined  to  regret  his  taking  off,  but  when 
she  remembered  the  scream  of  the  poor  little  rab- 
bit, she  was  willing  to  believe  that  the  old  fox 
had  received  his  deserts. 

As  for  Drusilla,  she  had  not  a  spark  of  sympa- 
thy for  old  Scar-Face.  "  I  'm  glad  dey  cotch  'im," 
she  said.  "  De  dogs  done  'im  des  like  he  done  de 
yuther  creeturs.  An'  'pon  top  er  dat,  he  sot  up 
dar  an'  grin  an'  brag  'bout  how  he  gwine  ter 
outdo  um.  I  hear  ol'  folks  say  dat  dem  what  do 
de  mos'  braggin'  is  de  mos'  no  'count.  I  'm  glad 
dey  got  'im.  He  had  plenty  time  ter  go  'way ; 
he  des  hung  'roun'  here  kaze  he  b'lieve  dey  ain't 
no  dog  kin  outdo  'im." 


CAWKY,  THE  CROW.  ITS 

This  sort  of  talk  led,  of  course,  to  Joe  Maxwell 
and  Hodo,  and  before  Buster  John  knew  it,  he 
would  be  describing  the  famous  chase  over  again. 
For  a  long  time  this  was  interesting,  but  after 
awhile  the  small  audience  grew  tired  of  hearing  it, 
and  Buster  John  grew  tired  of  telling  it. 

Christmas  and  New  Year's  came  and  went,  and 
were  followed  by  weather  so  cold  and  stormy  that 
the  youngsters  had  to  stay  in  the  house,  and 
Johnny  Bapter  had  as  much  as  he  could  do  to 
keep  the  big  hickory  logs  piled  high  enough  in 
the  wide  fireplace.  A  fire  big  enough,  it  seemed, 
to  roast  an  ox  would  hardly  keep  the  dining-room 
or  the  sitting-room  warm.  It  rained  and  sleeted, 
and  then  snowed,  and  the  snow  stayed  on  the 
ground  long  enough  to  give  the  children  an  op- 
portunity to  enjoy  themselves  on  some  clumsy 
sleds  that  Johnny  Bapter  made  for  them. 

But  toward  the  last  of  March  a  heavy  rain- 
storm came  roaring  and  sweeping  along,  and  after 
that  spring  came  out  of  her  hiding-place  and 
brought  warm  sunshine  and  the  flowers  with  her. 
In  a  little  while  the  peach  orchard,  which  had 
looked  so  bleak  and  cheerless  a  few  week  before, 
seemed  to  be  covered  with  pink  snow,  and  the 
mocking-birds  flew  about  singing. 


176  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Johnny  Bapter  had  one  sign  for  spring  weather 
which  he  said  never  failed.  "  You  see  deni  peach 
blooms?  Well,  ol'  Jack  Frost  kin  come  an'  nip 
urn,  but  when  you  see  an'  hear  de  mockin'-bird 
singin'  while  he  flyin',  you  kin  go  on  an'  plant 
yo'  corn  an'  cotton,  kaze  dey  ain't  gwine  be  no 
mo'  fros'  dat  season." 

It  was  while  the  peach  orchard  was  in  full  blos- 
som that  the  children's  mother  chanced  to  remem- 
ber that  she  had  another  supply  of  clothing  for 
little  Billy  Biscuit,  the  waif  who  had  been  left 
with  Miss  Elviry  Bobs,  "  to  be  called  for,"  as  the 
saying  is.  Naturally  enough  the  children  were 
keen  to  go  ;  Sweetest  Susan,  because  she  wanted 
to  play  with  Billy  Biscuit,  who,  she  said,  was  the 
cutest  thing  in  the  world,  and  Buster  John,  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  have  another  talk  with  Mr. 
Bobs.  He  had  an  idea  that  Mr.  Bobs  could  tell 
him  something  new  or  show  him  something  queer 
every  day  in  the  week,  and  Sunday  too.  Buster 
John  was  still  loyal  to  Aaron.  More  than  that, 
Mr.  Bobs  was  so  different  from  the  Son  of  Ben 
AH  in  all  respects  that  there  was  no  danger  that 
admiration  for  one  would  clash  with  admiration 
for  the  other.  Aaron  was  Aaron,  and  there  was 


CAWKY,   THE  CROW.  177 

nobody  like  him  but  himself.  Likewise  Mr.  Boba 
was  Mr.  Bobs,  quaint  and  original. 

As  both  the  children  had  a  motive  for  going, 
they  besieged  their  mother  singly  and  collectively 
until  finally  she  was  obliged  to  surrender  and 
give  her  consent.  If  she  had  known  about  the 
wonderful  bubble,  it  is  probable  that  she  would 
have  refused ;  but,  since  their  experience  with 
Mr.  Thimblefinger,  the  children  had  grown  some- 
what reticent  about  their  adventures.  They  had 
dropped  hints  here  and  there  about  what  they 
had  seen,  but  these  hints  were  laughed  at  as 
crude  and  clumsy  inventions,  or  as  wild  and  im- 
possible fiction. 

One  day  Buster  John,  walking  with  his  mother 
through  the  lot,  burst  out  laughing  at  something 
the  Muscovy  drake  said  to  the  big  white  gander. 
He  laughed  so  long  that  his  mother  concluded 
that  he  had  hysterics.  She  carried  him  back  to 
the  house,  and  proceeded  to  dose  him  with  hot 
and  bitter  drinks.  He  made  matters  worse  by 
telling  her  what  the  drake  had  said  to  the  gan- 
der, for  she  was  then  sure  he  was  "  flighty  "  in 
the  head,  and  so  he  had  to  go  to  bed,  though  the 
sun  was  shining  a  warm  invitation.  He  never 


178  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

made  a  similar  mistake,  nor  did  Sweetest  Susan, 
after  this  terrible  warning. 

Brasilia  finally  consented  to  make  one  of  the 
party,  but  she  was  particular  to  lay  down  the  con- 
ditions under  which  she  would  give  the  young- 
sters the  pleasure  of  her  company.  She  held  up 
her  left  hand  with  the  fingers  wide  apart,  and  as 
she  named  the  conditions  she  would  register  them 
by  pulling  the  fingers  together  with  her  right 
hand. 

"  You-all  say  you  want  me  ter  go  dar  whar  dat 
oF  man  live  at?  I  tell  you  right  now  I  ain't 
aehin'  ter  go  dar,  kaze  I  don't  like  de  way  he  look 
out'n  de  eye ;  he  chug  full  er  rank  venom.  But 
ef  I  does  go,  I  ain't  gwine  ter  follow  atter  you  in 
no  foolishness.  I  ain't  gwine  in  no  bubble,"  — 
here  she  pulled  the  little  finger  of  her  left  hand, 

—  "I  ain't  gwine  in  no  Fimblethinger  doin's," 

—  the  third  finger  was  pulled  down,  —  "  an'  I 
ain't  gwine  nowhere  ner  do  nothin'   dat   folks 
don't  do  when  dey  got  der  sevm  senses,"  —  here 
the  middle  finger  was  pulled   down  to  join  the 
other  two. 

These  were  the  terms  of  the  contract  to  which 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  compelled 


CAWKY,   THE  CROW.  179 

to  give  their  assent  before  Drusilla  would  consent 
to  go. 

"  All  dat,"  exclaimed  Drusilla,  "  don't  bender 
you-all  frum  gwine  whar  you  cboosen  ter  go. 
Ef  you  wanter  git  in  bubbles  an'  git  flew'd  away 
wid,  go  an'  git  in  'um.  Ef  you  wanter  jump  in 
springs  an'  pon's  an'  dream  youer  some'rs  else,  go 
ahead  an'  do  it.  But  don't  ax  me  ter  do  it ;  kaze 
ef  you  does  you  '11  have  a  great  tale  to  tell  Miss 
Rachel,  an'  she  '11  gi'  mammy  de  wink,  an* 
mammy  '11  gi'  me  a  frailin'  ;  well,  I  '11  take  de 
frailin' ;  I  'd  ruther  be  beat  ter  death  on  top 
er  de  groun'  dan  ter  git  flew'd  off  wid  in  a 
bubble,  er  drownded  in  dat  ar  Fimblethinger 
country." 

The  children  faithfully  promised  that,  no  mat- 
ter what  happened  or  what  they  did,  they  wouldn't 
ask  Drusilla  to  join  them,  and  they  would  n't  com- 
plain about  her  to  their  mother.  This  seemed 
to  lift  a  heavy  load  from  Drusilla's  mind.  She 
breathed  freely  and  became  even  cheerful. 

The  journey  to  Mr.  Bobs's  house  was  in  all 
respects  a  repetition  of  the  former  one,  Johnny 
Bapter  driving  the  two-seated  spring  wagon  and 
singing  blithely  ;  and  when  they  arrived  at  their 


180  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

destination,  Miss  Elviry  was  standing  at  the 
door  with  a  smile  of  welcome.  Little  Billy  Bis- 
cuit had  grown  considerably.  He  had  larger 
ideas,  too.  He  was  no  longer  a  calf  in  a  pen,  but 
a  saddle-horse  tied  to  the  fence,  a  chair  turned  on 
its  side  answering  all  the  purposes  of  a  fence  in 
this  case.  The  bridle  was  a  length  or  two  of 
basting  thread,  and  though  it  seemed  to  be  a  frail 
substitute  for  a  halter,  it  must  have  been  strong, 
for  it  served  to  hold  this  restive  horse,  which  was 
making  tremendous  efforts  to  gain  its  freedom, 
pawing  the  ground  and  kicking  out  its  heels  at  a 
terrible  rate. 

The  earnestness  of  little  Billy  Biscuit  was  com- 
ical to  see,  and  Sweetest  Susan  thought  it  was  the 
iinest  spectacle  she  had  ever  witnessed.  She 
wanted  to  hug  the  child  then  and  there ;  but  Miss 
Elviry  shook  her  head. 

"  'T would  upset  him  for  the  rest  of  the  day," 
she  explained.  "  Ef  you  want  to  please  him,  just 
say,  '  Whoa,  there  ! '  Ef  you  git  on  wi'  him, 
you  've  got  to  believe  in  his  make-believe.  You 
would  n't  believe  it,  honey,  but  that  child  ain't 
half  as  much  trouble  as  a  grown  person.  Why, 
when  you  want  him  to  be  still,  all  you  've  got  to 


CAWKY,  THE  CROW.  181 

do  is  to  tie  him  with  some  sewin'  thread  an'  say 
he  's  a  hoss.  A  hoss  he  '11  be  tell  you  come  an' 
onloose  him !  " 

The  children  entered  at  once  into  the  spirit  of 
the  affair.  At  a  word  Sweetest  Susan  and  Bus- 
ter John  became  horses,  and  Drusilla  was  a  mule. 
The  change  was  effected  as  suddenly  as  the  genii 
in  the  Arabian  Nights  could  have  accomplished 
it.  No  waving  of  wands  nor  incantation  was 
necessary. 

This  drama  of  the  horses  was  all  very  well  for 
a  little  while  ;  but  the  older  children,  being  used 
to  more  variety,  soon  grew  tired  of  it,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  they  succeeded  in  coaxing  Little 
Billy  Biscuit  out  of  doors.  Just  as  they  went 
into  the  yard,  Miss  Elviry  suddenly  remembered 
that  she  had  forgotten  to  feed  the  hen  with  the 
young  chickens  that  had  just  been  "  taken  off  ;  " 
so  she  mixed  some  corn  meal  and  water  in  a  tin 
pan,  and  began  to  call  the  hens. 

The  call  was  answered  from  overhead  in  the 
most  unexpected  manner.  A  crow,  cawing  and 
croaking,  began  to  circle  around  Miss  Elviry's 
head,  and  presently  lit  in  the  pan  of  dough. 

"  Oh,  get  away  from  here  !  "  Miss  Elviry  cried 


182  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

impatiently ;  "  you  're  allers  stickin'  yourself 
where  you  ain't  wanted." 

She  pushed  the  crow  from  the  pan,  but  he  flew 
back  with  many  croaks,  and  not  until  Miss  Elviry 
liad  given  him  a  good  share  of  dough  did  he 
cease  his  flutterings.  She  dropped  a  wad  of  the 
food  on  the  ground,  and  this  the  crow  proceeded 
to  devour,  talking  to  himself  all  the  while.  Miss 
Elviry  went  to  another  part  of  the  yard,  hunting 
for  the  young  chickens,  but  the  children  stood 
still  and  watched  the  crow. 

"  Ain't  I  done  toP  you  dey  wuz  cunjer  peo- 
ple ?  "  whispered  Drusilla.  "  Why,  you  can't  git 
in  a  mile  er  no  crow  less'n  you  been  rubbin'  agin 
deze  folks.  Now  min'  what  I  tell  you  ;  dis  crow 
sho  is  Satan ;  you  may  follow  atter  'iin  ef  you 
wanter,  but  I  ain't  gwineter  budge  out'n  my 
tracks ! " 

Little  Billy  Biscuit,  however,  was  on  very  good 
terms  with  the  crow.  He  sat  on  the  ground  by 
the  bird,  and  with  a  small  twig  touched  him 
occasionally  on  the  legs.  The  crow  saw  the  move- 
ment every  time  ;  but  invariably  he  would  raise 
the  leg  that  had  been  touched,  stretch  out  the 
toes  on  the  foot  and  examine  them  carefully,  ut- 
tering a  croaky  grumble  all  the  time. 


"WHAT   IS   YOUR    NAME?''   ASKED    BUSTER  JOHN 


CAWKY,  THE  CROW.  183 

The  solemn  way  in  which  he  went  about  this 
was  very  amusing  to  the  children.  Buster  John 
laughed  so  loudly  that  the  crow  stopped  and 
looked  at  him  sidewise,  speaking  for  the  first  time 
so  the  children  could  understand  him. 

"Cackity!  What 's  all  the  fuss  about  ?"  Then 
he  went  on  eating  the  dough. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  Buster  John. 

"  Cawky-ikey-uk-ek-ik-ak  !  " 

"  Well,  Cawky,  where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Anywhere  around  here,  ik-ek." 

Miss  Elviry  came  up  at  this  moment,  and,  with- 
out knowing  it,  interrupted  the  conversation. 

"  One  year  the  crows  built  in  that  pine  thicket 
down  yan'.  He  must  'a'  fell  from  the  nest,  for 
one  day  I  found  him  stretched  out  on  the  ground 
more  dead  than  alive.  I  fetched  him  home  an* 
nursed  him  till  he  could  take  keer  of  hisself .  He 
goes  off  an'  comes  back,  an'  he  's  tamer  than  arry 
chicken  on  the  place.  He  pays  for  his  keep,  too, 
for  he  's  our  crow-trap.  I  '11  tell  you  about  it 
before  you  go." 

"  Kuk-akity  ;  how  quick  she  talks  !  What  did 
she  say  ?  " 

"  That  you  are  her  crow-trap,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan. 


184  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Ak-trap,  trap-ak !  "  chuckled  Gawky.  "  What 
is  a  trap  ?  " 

"  Something  that  catches  things/'  explained 
Buster  John. 

"  Ekek,  ak-ak-ak  ! "  laughed  the  crow  without 
smiling.  "  I  know !  In  the  corn  row  !  Cackity  ! 
It 's  funny !  Said  one  old  crow  to  another  old 
crow,  (  What  makes  people  do  us  so  ?  For,  you 
know,  since  we  were  born,  it 's  been  our  trade  to 
pull  up  corn/  Cack-ak,  corn  !  " 

There  was  something  very  quaint  about  Cawky 
as  he  walked  back  and  forth,  chuckling,  laughing, 
and  apparently  trying  to  "show  off"  before 
strangers.  He  did  it  all  so  solemnly  that  it  be- 
came comical,  and  the  children  were  so  much 
amused  that  they  laughed  till  the  tears  came  in 
their  eyes ;  that  is,  they  all  laughed  except  Dru- 
silla,  who  firmly  believed  that  the  crow  was  a  bird 
of  evil. 

Once  Cawky  paused  in  his  promenade,  seized  a 
ring  that  Sweetest  Susan  wore,  and  tried  to  twist 
it  off. 

"  You  better  not  let  dat  creetur  fool  wid  you !  " 
Drusilla  exclaimed.  "  I  tell  you  he  de  ol'  Scratch ; 
he  '11  grab  you  an'  fly  away  wid  you.  You  mark 
what  I  tell  you ! " 


CAWKY,  THE  CROW.  185 

"  Ek-ek-ek !  "  laughed  Cawky,  whose  attention 
was  attracted  to  Drusilla.  "  You  have  crows  in 
your  family  !  Cackity  !  I  'd  like  to  catch  that  one 
in  my  trap." 

"  Huh  !  ef  you  wuz  a  crow,  an'  not  de  oY  Boy 
hisse'f,  I  'd  wring  yo'  neck,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Ek-nack,  neck-ek  !  "  chuckled  Cawky,  as  he 
promenaded  about,  picking  up  flakes  of  mica,  or 
glistening  pebbles,  or  broken  pieces  of  crockery. 

At  this  point  Miss  Elviry  returned  and  ex- 
plained that  in  the  spring,  when  the  young  corn 
was  just  sprouting  and  showing  a  tiny  green  blade 
above  the  soil,  the  crows  did  a  good  deal  of  dam- 
age. They  would  leave  one  of  their  number 
watching  in  the  top  of  one  of  the  tall  pines,  and 
the  rest  would  fly  down  into  the  cornfield  and 
pull  up  the  young  corn,  row  by  row,  to  get  at 
the  grains  still  clinging  to  the  tender  roots.  No 
one  could  approach  near  enough  to  shoot  them, 
for  the  sentinel  in  the  pine  top  would  sound  the 
alarm  the  moment  a  human  being  appeared  in 
sight,  and  away  all  the  crows  would  fly,  to  return 
promptly  when  the  coast  was  clear. 

One  day,  however,  Miss  Elviry  heard  a  great 
clamor  of  crows  in  the  cornfield,  such  a  hubbub, 


186  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

indeed,  that  it  attracted  her  attention.  She  went 
into  the  field ;  and  there  she  saw  the  crows  flutter- 
ing and  flying  about  like  mad.  At  first  she 
thought  they  had  attacked  an  owl  or  a  hawk,  but 
as  she  went  nearer  they  all  flew  away  but  two. 
One  of  these  was  making  tremendous  efforts  to 
fly,  but  the  other,  lying  on  his  back,  was  holding 
him. 

"  <  What  in  the  world ! '  says  I  to  myself,"  re- 
marked Miss  Elviry.  "  I  went  to  where  they  was 
at,  and  there  saw  Cawky  holding  the  other  crow 
by  the  feet.  The  toes  of  the  two  was  so  tangled 
that  't  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  entangle  'em. 
That  put  the  idea  in  my  head  that  maybe  Cawky 
would  make  a  good  crow-trap.  So  brother  fixed 
up  a  couple  of  straps  wi'  pegs  at  the  ends,  an'  we 
took  Cawky  out  in  the  field,  laid  him  on  his  back 
in  a  corn  row,  put  the  straps  acrost  his  body,  and 
pushed  the  pegs  in  the  ground  to  hold  him.  Of 
all  the  squallin'  an'  jabberin'  you  've  ever  heard  ! 
Cawky  made  more  fuss  in  one  minnit  than  a  flock 
of  crows  make  in  a  week.  The  crows  fairly 
swarmed  down  on  him  in  a  little  or  no  time,  an'  I 
run  back  for  fear  they  'd  kill  him ;  but  he  wa'n't 
hurt,  an'  he  had  another  crow !  Along  at  first, 


CAWKY,   THE  CROW.  187 

Cawky  did  n't  like  it,  but  he 's  got  so  now  that 
when  he  hears  crows  about  he  '11  come  a-flyin'  and 
a-runnin',  an'  make  the  biggest  kind  of  a  fuss  tell 
we  git  out  his  harness  —  we  call  it  his  harness 
—  an'  fasten  him  down  in  the  field.  I  reckon 
they  've  got  some  sign  of  distress  like  the  Free 
Masons,  for  just  as  soon  as  he  starts  up  his  hol- 
lerin',  all  the  crows  in  the  settlement  '11  come 
flyin'  an'  try  to  git  him  loose." 

Again  Miss  Elviry  went  to  attend  to  her  house- 
hold duties,  leaving  the  children  with  Cawky, 
who,  while  she  was  talking,  had  been  trying  to 
pull  the  brass  buttons  from  Buster  John's  jacket. 
He  succeeded  in  getting  one,  and  with  this  in  his 
beak  he  ran  around  and  around  with  his  wings 
half -spread,  and  uttering  loud  cries  of  triumph. 
Then  he  ran  under  the  house  and  hid  it.  He 
found  the  old  house  cat  under  there  watching  a 
mouse  hole,  and  he  ran  her  out  and  pursued  her 
about  until  Miss  Elviry  had  to  take  the  broom  to 
him. 

It  was  great  fun  for  the  children,  and  Cawky 
seemed  to  enjoy  it,  too.  But  he  subsided  when 
Miss  Elviry  brought  out  the  broom,  and  went 
stalking  back  to  the  children  as  solemnly  as  an 
old-time  preacher. 


188  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  Why  do  you  like  to  catch  your  cousins  ?  " 
asked  Buster  John. 

"  Cackity !  Because-ek  they  are  my  cousins, 
ek-ek!" 

"  Maybe  you  've  already  caught  some  of  your 
brothers  and  sisters,"  said  Sweetest  Susan,  using 
what  Buster  John  called  her  Sunday-school 
voice. 

"  Ek  !  I  hope  so  !  I  want-ek  to  catch  my  daddy 
and  my  mammy.  Cackity  !  Did  n't  they  push  me 
from  the  nest  and  leave  me  on  the  ground  in  the 
rain  and  cold  ?  Ek  !  I  remember !  And  when  I 
went  back  among  them,  did  n't  they  drive  me 
away  ?  Cackity !  They  said  I  smelt  like  man. 
I  've  paid  them  well,  and  I  '11  pay  them  better. 
Ek-ek-ek ! " 

In  the  distance  Buster  John  saw  a  chicken 
hawk  circling  around. 

"  Get  under  the  house,  Cawky  ;  yonder  comes 
a  hawk." 

"  Ek-cackity !  A  hawk !  "  He  rose  in  the  air 
and  flew  to  the  top  of  a  neighboring  pine,  and 
sat  there  swinging.  The  hawk  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  circling  on  motionless  pinions,  a  picture 
of  wild  beauty. 


CAWKY   CATCHING   CROWS 


CAWKY,   THE  CROW.  189 

Suddenly  Cawky  rose  in  the  air,  and  began  to 
circle,  too. 

"  Kerray-kerree  !  "  This  was  the  war-cry  of 
Cawky's  brethren.  Twice  or  thrice  repeated  at 
intervals,  it  meant  a  hawk.  Repeated  a  dozen 
times  with  no  interval,  it  meant  that  an  owl  had 
been  discovered  asleep  in  the  woods. 

The  hawk  made  a  lusty  effort  to  escape,  and 
would  have  succeeded  if  Cawky  had  been  without 
allies,  but  in  every  direction  crows  were  seen  ris- 
ing in  the  air  —  some  ahead  of  the  hawk,  some 
behind  her,  and  some  on  each  side.  Rising  and 
circling,  she  suddenly  swooped  and  struck  at 
Cawky,  but  missed  him  by  a  hair's  breadth,  as 
she  came  down  with  a  rush  and  a  swish.  It  was 
a  fierce,  but  foolish  move.  Before  the  hawk 
could  recover  herself,  the  whole  colony  of  crows 
was  upon  her,  and  then  began  a  battle  royal, 
which  could  have  but  one  result. 

The  hawk  was  fierce  and  desperate,  her  talons 
were  sharp  and  her  beak  was  strong.  The  crows 
had  no  talons,  but  their  beaks  were  numerous. 
More  than  one  was  compelled  to  fly  heavily  away 
as  the  result  of  a  moment's  contact  with  the  hawk, 
but  finally  the  boldest  among  them  found  a  place 


190  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

on  the  hawk's  back,  out  of  reach  of  beak  and 
talons,  and  bore  her  slowly  to  earth,  where,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  moments,  she  was  killed  outright. 

The  children  ran  forward  as  hard  as  they  could 
when  they  saw  the  hawk  falling,  but  she  was  dead 
•when  they  reached  the  scene,  and  Cawky  was 
strutting  around  her,  chuckling  and  talking  to 
himself,  ready  to  strike  her  with  his  strong  beak 
if  she  showed  any  sign  of  life. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  carry  the  hawk 
to  the  house  as  a  trophy,  and  show  her  to  Miss 
Elviry,  who  expressed  great  satisfaction,  and  gave 
it  as  her  firm  and  unalterable  opinion  that  it  was 
the  very  same  hawk  that  had  been  snatching  her 
young  chickens  right  from  under  her  nose  for 
two  seasons  past.  No  doubt  Miss  Elviry  was 
right,  for  the  hawk  was  very  large  and  fat. 

By  that  time  Johnny  Bapter  had  returned  from 
his  errand  to  Harmony  Grove.  He  called  the 
children  and  they  clambered  into  the  wagon,  and 
by  dinner  time  they  were  safe  at  home. 


XII. 

THE    STORY    OF    MR.    COON. 

AARON  smiled  when  the  children  told  him  how 
Mr.  Bobs  could  set  a  crow  to  catch  a  crow.  He 
said  the  same  plan  had  been  practiced  for  many 
long  years.  He  had  heard  his  father,  Ben  Ali, 
tell  about  it.  Indeed,  the  probability  is  that  out 
of  this  practice  the  saying,  "  Set  a  thief  to  catch 
a  thief,"  had  arisen,  for  nobody  could  trust  a 
thief  to  catch  a  thief  unless  the  first  thief  was 
securely  fastened. 

But  Aaron,  on  his  side,  had  something  quite 
as  interesting  to  tell  the  children.  From  a  negro 
whom  he  knew  he  had  secured  a  raccoon,  — 
a  genuine,  full-grown  raccoon.  This  was  news, 
indeed,  and  so  exciting  in  its  character  that 
Aaron  was  compelled  to  answer,  or  to  parry, 
volley  after  volley  of  questions. 

"  Oh,  how  old  is  it  ?  and  what  does  it  look 
like  ?  "  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 


192  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  And  who  is  it  to  belong  to  ?  and  is  it  tame, 
—  so  tame  that  you  can  put  your  hand  on  it?" 
asked  Buster  John. 

"Why  didn't  dey  kill  it  an'  cook  it?"  in- 
quired Drusilla. 

Aaron  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears.  He  could  n't 
answer  all  the  questions  put  to  him.  Finally 
there  was  a  lull  in  the  excitement. 

"  What  did  you  give  for  him  ?  "  Buster  John 
asked  after  a  pause. 

"  Something,"  replied  Aaron  smiling. 

"But  how  much?" 

"Enough." 

"  Shucks,"  cried  Buster  John  ;  "  if  I  had  known 
there  was  some  great  secret  about  it,  I  would  n't 
have  asked." 

Aaron  pinched  the  boy's  ears  gently,  and  said, 
"  Come !  "  He  went  to  his  cabin,  the  children 
following,  and  when  they  went  in,  the  first  thing 
they  saw  was  Mr.  Coon,  pacing  back  and  forth 
the  length  of  the  small,  steel  chain  which  held 
him.  He  paused  and  regarded  them  curiously, 
twisting  the  end  of  his  sharp  nose  about,  and 
mechanically  feeling  in  the  cracks  of  the  floor 
with  his  forepaws,  which  seemed  to  be  as  supple 
and  as  useful  as  a  boy's  hands. 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  193 

When  Buster  John  went  nearer,  Mr.  Coon 
raised  himself  on  his  hind  legs  and  uttered  a  cry 
almost  identical  with  the  scream  of  a  rooster  when 
a  bird  suddenly  flies  over,  or  a  hawk  appears  in 
sight.  Buster  John  knew  it  was  a  warning,  and 
so  he  stopped. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Frog-Eater  —  Tadpole- 
Catcher  ?  "  the  Son  of  Ben  Ali  sharply  inquired. 

"  You  can't  fool  me,"  snarled  Mr.  Coon. 
(l  I  've  seen  creatures  like  him  before.  They 
poked  my  sides  with  sticks,  and  pulled  my  tail." 

"But  this  one  is  different,  Bug-Eater,"  said 
Aaron. 

"  Oh,  call  me  what  you  please,  Son  of  Ben  Ali. 
I  was  glad  to  come  with  you,  but  I  did  n't  invite 
myself  here,  did  I?  If  you  were  hungry  and 
thirsty  and  tied  fast,  and  saw  coming  toward  you 
one  of  the  creatures  that  had  made  misery 
for  you,  would  you  grin  and  say,  '  Welcome, 
friend'?" 

"  Likely  not,"  replied  Aaron.  "  But  you 
have  been  fed,  Frog-Eater.  You  said  you  had 
enough." 

"  Enough  of  the  kind,  Son  of  Ben  Ali ;  yes, 
and  too  much.  If  you  want  me  to  eat  corn,  get 


194  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

some  that  is  soft  on  the  cob  and  juicy.  If  you 
want  me  to  be  nice,  fetch  me  a  couple  of  young 
chickens,  or  a  handful  of  black  beetles."  Sweet- 
est Susan  shivered. 

"  Well,  Tadpole-Catcher,"  said  Aaron,  "  if  you 
want  good  things  to  eat,  go  with  these  friends. 
They  have  been  touched.  They  know  everything 
you  say,  and  when  you  are  hungry  or  thirsty, 
you  have  only  to  give  the  sign." 

At  this  Mr.  Coon  paced  back  and  forth  very 
rapidly.  This  was  the  way  he  showed  his  impa- 
tience. He  was  anxious  to  go  with  them.  Aaron 
unfastened  the  chain  and  placed  one  end  in  Bus- 
ter John's  hand.  The  youngster  held  it  very 
gingerly,  and  was  inclined  to  shrink  when  Mr. 
Coon  came  too  close,  but  he  soon  got  over  that 
feeling,  and  so  did  Sweetest  Susan  and  Brasilia ; 
so  that,  in  a  little  while,  they  were  more  familiar 
with  Mr.  Coon  than  they  had  ever  been  with  .any 
of  their  pets. 

They  lost  no  time  in  giving  him  his  dinner, 
which  consisted  of  chicken  heads  and  giblets. 
Mr.  Coon  smacked  his  mouth  over  them,  and 
when  he  had  finished  declared  that  he  felt  better 
than  he  had  for  many  a  day,  and  remarked :  — 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.   COON.  195 

"  Eg  liblum  gig  loblum  og  iggle  !  "  which  lit- 
erally translated  means  "  Big  dinner,  bigger  bed." 
Freely  interpreted,  it  means :  "  If  I  continue  to 
get  such  fine  fare,  I  '11  have  to  get  my  clothes 
made  larger." 

It  may  interest  readers  who  are  no  longer 
young  to  know  that  in  the  language  of  animals 
the  root  word  lablam  stands  for  things,  and  its 
variations,  liblum,  loblum,  leblim,  liblom,  etc., 
mean  the  thing  at  hand,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  the 
thing  under  the  nose  —  the  thing  talked  about. 

It  is  a  pity  that  Joe  Maxwell,  who  is  responsible 
for  these  dry  details,  did  not  take  the  trouble  to 
write  the  language  down  from  Buster  John's 
recipe.  But  he  put  it  off  from  day  to  day,  and 
now  there  is  nothing  left  but  the  rough  notes  of 
these  stories,  and  some  scattered  fragments  of 
explanation,  one  of  which  is  presented  above. 

Well  (to  shoo  all  this  away)  Mr.  Coon  was 
highly  delighted  with  his  dinner,  and  was  ready 
to  curl  up  and  take  a  nap,  or  was  willing  to  join 
the  children  in  a  frolic.  So  they  led  him  into 
their  playroom  in  the  attic,  unsnapped  the  chain 
from  his  collar,  and  gave  him  the  freedom  of  the 
wide  space. 


196  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

First,  Mr.  Coon  must  poke  his  nose  or  his  fore- 
paws  into  everything.  He  paced  round  and  round 
the  room,  smelling  at  or  feeling  in  every  nook 
and  cranny.  When  he  was  satisfied  with  his  in- 
spection, nothing  would  do  but  he  must  feel  in 
Buster  John's  pocket.  He  pulled  out  marbles, 
nails,  and  fragments  of  chinaware,  which  the 
youngster  used  in  place  of  money.  With  a  few 
fragments  of  fine  chinaware  in  his  pocket,  Buster 
John  always  felt  rich.  With  this  form  of  cur- 
rency he  had  bought  whole  droves  of  ponies  and 
large  arsenals  of  guns,  pistols,  swords,  and  war 
cannon  from  imaginary  venders. 

Piece  by  piece  Mr.  Coon  brought  Buster  John's 
treasures  to  light,  and  examined  them  carefully. 
The  children  noticed  that  Mr.  Coon's  forepaws 
were  very  much  like  tiny  hands,  and  that  his 
hind  feet  made  tracks  in  the  sand  that  looked 
like  those  of  a  wee  baby.  Of  course,  it  was 
Sweetest  Susan  who  made  this  discovery.  When- 
ever Mr.  Coon  left  the  prints  of  his  feet  visible, 
one  could  almost  imagine  that  some  small  goblin 
in  human  shape  had  passed  that  way,  going  on 
all-fours.  Almost !  Why,  Sweetest  Susan  did 
imagine  it — was  sure  of  it,  indeed  —  whenever 


MR.   COON  .  .  .  EXAMINED   THEM   CAREFULLY 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  197 

she  was  in  Make-Believe  land,  where  she  lived 
most  of  the  time.  Surely  it  could  not  be  more 
wonderful  than  the  country  next  door  to  the 
world,  where  old  Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mrs.  Meadows 
and  the  looking-glass  children  had  their  abode. 

For  a  few  days  Mr.  Coon  feasted,  and  then 
the  children  thought  he  should  begin  to  pay  for 
his  board ;  first,  by  giving  an  account  of  him- 
self, and  next  in  any  other  way  that  might  be 
devised.  So  far  as  Mr.  Coon  was  concerned,  he 
was  perfectly  willing  to  accommodate  the  chil- 
dren. He  was  never  bad  tempered  unless  he  saw 
a  cat  or  dog,  and  such  of  these  as  were  about  the 
house  and  yard  soon  learned  to  give  him  a  wide 
berth,  for  his  claws  and  teeth  were  sharp,  and  he 
was  a  born  fighter. 

In  Joe  Maxwell's  rough  notes,  Mr.  Coon  began 
thus :  — 

"  If  I  had  to  tell  my  tale  from  the  talk-thing, 
as  you  talk  your  talk,  I  'd  talk  no  talk  of  this 
thing."  As  this  would  be  hard  to  follow,  it  has 
been  rendered  into  a  free  translation  from  first  to 
last. 

"  If  I  had  to  learn  my  language  out  of  books, 
as  you  do  yours,"  said  Mr.  Coon,  leaning  back  in 


198  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

a  corner  of  the  playroom,  and  rubbing  his  face 
and  nose  with  both  hands,  "  I  would  n't  have 
much  to  say  about  myself,  for  I  would  n't  know 
how  to  say  it.  My  home  was  in  the  hollow  limb 
of  a  tree,  and  I  can  remember  how  nice  it  was  to 
sleep  in  that  soft,  warm  place.  There  were  four 
others  besides  me,  and  we  used  to  sleep  close  to- 
gether tiU  our  mammy  came  home.  We  were 
always  awake  when  she  came,  for  we  could  hear 
her  climbing  the  tree;  and  then,  if  it  was  not 
raining,  she  'd  sit  on  the  outside,  and  dry  her 
feet  and  clothes  with  her  tongue.  Sometimes 
we  'd  get  impatient  and  begin  to  cry,  and  once 
one  of  the  others  went  to  the  door;  the  slap 
he  got  made  him  squeal,  and  none  of  us  ever 
bothered  our  mammy  any  more  by  going  to  the 
door.  But,  my  !  How  hungry  and  angry  I  used 
to  get  while  mammy  sat  out  there  cleaning  her 
feet  and  drying  her  clothes !  But  she  always 
took  her  own  time,  and  then,  when  she  came  in, 
what  a  scramble  there  was  for  the  right  teat. 
Mine  was  the  middle  one,  but  I  always  had  to 
claw  and  be  clawed  before  I  could  get  it.  We 
were  all  ravenous,  and  I  never  did  get  as  much 
food  as  I  wanted  at  one  time  till  I  came  here.  I 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  199 

think  our  kind  are  born  hungry,  and  kept  hungry 
that  we  may  be  able  to  escape  from  those  that 
follow  us. 

"  The  first  thing  I  really  remember  was  once 
when  I  heard  a  bird  chirping  and  whistling  right 
at  our  very  door.  I  trembled  and  shook  all  over. 
The  others  were  asleep,  and  I  was  glad  of  it. 
Shaking  and  trembling,  I  crept  to  the  door,  and 
there,  right  at  me,  was  a  bird  with  a  long  bill, 
which  he  was  poking  under  the  bark.  Shivering 
and  shaking,  I  jumped  on  him,  but  I  came  near 
falling  to  the  ground.  He  was  stronger  than  he 
seemed  to  be,  and  he  had  claws,  too.  He  clinched 
me  with  these,  and  beat  me  over  the  head  with 
his  wings,  but  I  did  n't  mind  that.  I  did  n't 
mind  anything.  I  shook  no  longer.  I  felt  my 
hair  rising  on  my  back;  I  heard  myself  growl. 
I  did  n't  know  why,  but  I  was  furious.  I  crushed 
the  bird  in  my  teeth  until  his  wings  ceased  to 
move  ;  but  I  was  still  angry ;  I  had  tasted  blood ; 
I  had  made  my  first  kill.  If  one  of  the  others 
had  come  out  just  then,  I  think  he  would  have 
been  sorry.  But  they  were  all  frightened  by  the 
noise  and  were  huddled  in  the  farthest  corner. 
Then,  when  I  was  no  longer  angry,  but  proud,  I 


200  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

went  to  the  door  carrying  the  bird  in  my  teeth. 
They  smelt  the  blood  and  rushed  at  me,  and  then 
there  was  a  fight !  " 

"  Why,  you  were  fighting  your  own  brothers 
and  sisters  !  "  said  Sweetest  Susan  severely. 

"  So  would  you,  if  you  were  of  my  kind,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Coon.  "  There  was  a  fight,  but  they 
all  got  a  piece  of  the  bird.  After  that  we  were 
changed.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  asleep  all 
the  time,  and  something  had  suddenly  awakened 
us.  Then  mammy  came  home.  She  sniffed 
around  and  smelt  the  blood  and  saw  the  feathers. 
She  nosed  under  us  as  we  lay  and  rooted  us  out 
of  the  way,  but  she  found  nothin'  more  than 
feathers.  f  Well,  I  declare  ! '  she  cried ;  '  who  's 
been  bringing  you  a  bird  ?  ' 

"'Is  that  what  you  call  a  bird?'  asked  one 
of  the  others,  and  when  she  said  it  was,  they  all 
squalled  out,  '  Oh,  mammy,  mammy  !  Fetch  us 
some  more !  Mammy,  fetch  us  some  more  ! ' 

"  But  she  kept  on  asking,  '  Who  brought  this 
one?  Who  brought  this  one?'  I  said  nothing, 
but  the  others  looked  at  me  and  said  I  was  the 
one  that  brought  the  bird. 

"  '  Where  did  you  get  it?'  mammy  asked. 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  201 

*  I  told  her  I  had  grabbed  the  bird,  and  though 
she  said  nothing  she  seemed  to  be  pleased,  and  I 
noticed  that  she  combed  my  hair  with  her  tongue 
a  great  deal  longer  than  she  ever  did  before. 
After  that,  she  began  to  bring  us  birds  and  frogs, 
and  once  she  brought  us  a  big  fish,  and  that  was 
fine." 

"  Frogs  !  "  cried  Brasilia.  "  You  hear  dat  ? 
Frogs!" 

"  Not  the  kind  that  live  on  land,"  explained 
Mr.  Coon,  making  a  wry  face,  "  but  the  kind  that 
hide  on  the  bank  of  the  creek  and  jump  in  when 
they  hear  you  coming.  You  have  to  take  many 
long  and  hard  lessons  before  you  can  catch  one. 
Fish  are  easier  to  catch.  You  turn  your  back  to 
the  creek,  let  the  tip  of  your  tail  touch  the  top  of 
the  water,  and  move  it  about — and  wait." 

"  Huh  !  I  see  myself ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla 
resentfully. 

"  Hush  up,"  said  Buster  John ;  "  you  're  no 
coon." 

"  Well,  some  folks  call  niggers  coons,"  replied 
Drusilla. 

"  All  this  time,"  Mr.  Coon  continued,  paying 
no  attention  to  the  interruption,  "  you  leave  your 


202  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

body  turned  half  around  so  you  can  see  what  is 
going  on  in  the  water.  When  the  fish  shows 
himself,  you  reach  down  and  flirt  him  out  on  the 
bank,  and  in  reaching  you  have  to  be  quicker 
than  the  fish  —  and  fish  are  mighty  quick.  But 
a  gnawing  stomach "  (dag  ig  lublum ;  literally, 
crying-for-meat-thing)  "  makes  a  quick  hand. 

"  Well,  mammy  was  trying  to  teach  us  all 
these  things,  and  we  were  learning  very  fast. 
She  took  us  with  her  when  the  sun  was  low,  or 
when  it  had  just  gone  away,  and,  though  the 
light  was  trying  to  our  eyes,  we  did  very  well. 
Once  mammy  heard  a  dog  barking,  and  she  hur- 
ried us  home,  making  us  run  as  hard  as  we  could. 
I  asked  her  what  the  trouble  was,  and  she  said  it 
was  the  barking  of  the  dog  that  scared  her ;  and 
she  told  us  that  when  we  were  older  and  heard  a 
dog  bark  we  must  hurry  home  by  a  roundabout 
way,  and  run  in  the  water  whenever  we  could, 
because  dogs  had  a  way  of  smelling  where  we 
went  along  and  following  us  wherever  we  went ; 
and  if  they  followed  us  home  they  'd  sit  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree  and  bark  until  a  man  would  come 
with  a  sharp  cut-thing  and  hit  the  tree  until  it 
fell. 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  203 

"  All  these  things  we  learned,  and  a  great 
many  more,  but  you  know  what  fool  things  young 
things  are." 

"  I  ain't  oF,  but  I  know  I  ain't  no  fool,"  inter- 
rupted Drusilla. 

"  Oh,  will  you  hush  ?  "  cried  Buster  John. 

"  You  know  what  fool  things  young  things 
are,"  repeated  Mr.  Coon.  "  They  listen  to  what 
their  elders  say,  and  think  it  is  nothing  but  talk. 
The  young  thing  is  always  a  smarter  thing  than 
the  old  thing,  and  sometimes  he  is  too  smart.  I 
remember  that  one  night  I  slipped  away  from  the 
others  after  mammy  had  been  gone  a  long  time. 
I  was  careful  to  make  no  noise  on  the  tree,  but 
when  I  reached  the  ground,  I  felt  so  happy  that 
I  jumped  in  the  air  and  whirled  around  for  joy. 
The  air  was  cool  and  fresh,  the  swamp  smelt  good, 
and  the  dark  was  fine.  I  could  see  everything 
ever  so  much  better  than  when  the  big  shine- 
thing  is  blazing  over  the  trees. 

"  So  I  shook  myself  and  started  for  the  pond 
in  the  swamp.  There  I  caught  some  small  fish, 
and  they  tasted  ever  so  much  better  than  those 
mammy  brought  home.  Then  I  wandered  out 
of  the  swamp  and  went  on  the  hill  where  the 


204  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

brambles  are,  hunting  for  birds  and  birds'  nests. 
I  found  two  birds  and  one  nest  with  tiny  eggs 
in  it,  and  the  eggs  tasted  so  nice  that  I  wanted 
more,  and  I  went  rambling  all  over  the  hill  ever 
so  far.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  dog  bark.  The 
sound  of  it  made  me  shake  and  shiver,  and  I 
stood  listening.  Presently  I  heard  the  bark 
again,  and  it  was  so  close  at  hand  that  it  sounded 
like  a  dreadful  roaring." 

"  I  boun'  you  had  ter  hump  yo'se'f  den,"  sug*- 
gested  Drusilla. 

Mr.  Coon,  with  his  eyes  half  shut,  for  he  was 
sleepy,  kept  right  on  the  track  of  his  narrative. 

"  A  dreadful  roaring.  I  went  away  from  there 
as  fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me,  and  ran  right 
to  the  swamp.  I  could  hear  the  dog  coming, 
too ;  and,  far  off,  I  could  hear  some  one  crying 
out." 

"  That  was  the  man  cheering  the  dog,"  Buster 
John  explained. 

"  The  dog,"  said  Mr.  Coon,  "  seemed  to  be 
coming  closer  and  closer,  and  I  began  to  run 
harder  than  ever.  I  remembered  that  my  mammy 
had  said  something  about  water  and  dogs,  and  I 
ran  straight  for  the  big  pond  in  the  swamp ;  the 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.   COON.  205 

Son  of  Ben  All  knows  where  it  is.  I  slipped  into 
the  water  and  swam  to  the  middle,  where  there 's 
a  stump  of  an  old  tree.  I  had  hardly  reached  it 
•when  the  dog  came  in  sight  on  the  bank  of  the 
pond,  and  began  to  whine  and  bark.  He  ran 
around  to  see  if  I  had  gone  out  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  then  he  caught  sight  of  me.  He  jumped 
into  the  water  with  a  great  splash,  and  when  I 
saw  him  coming,  fear  seemed  to  leave  me.  I 
climbed  upon  the  stump,  and  when  he  came  near 
I  jumped  on  his  head  and  bit  him  on  the  neck 
with  all  my  might.  He  went  under,  but  I  turned 
him  loose,  and  came  to  the  top  and  swam  around 
and  round.  He  came  up  trying  to  shake  the 
water  from  his  ears,  and  they  flapped  on  the 
pond  like  the  wings  of  a  duck  that  is  trying  to 
rise  in  a  hurry.  Before  he  got  through  flapping 
I  had  jumped  on  his  head  again,  and  when  he 
went  down  I  clawed  him  with  my  hind  feet.  He 
tried  to  cry  out,  but  all  he  could  do  was  to  make 
bubbles  on  the  water.  I  jumped  on  his  head 
twice  after  this,  and  the  third  time  he  never  came 
up  any  more.  I  went  out  on  the  bank,  shook 
the  water  off  my  clothes,  and  cantered  toward 
home.  As  I  went  along,  feeling  very  proud, 


206  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

I  heard  the  man  calling  his  dog.  First  he  blew 
a  horn.  He  blew  it  a  long  time,  and  then  called 
and  called ;  but  the  dog,  being  at  the  bottom  of 
the  big  pond,  could  make  no  answer. 

l(  When  I  reached  home  I  found  mammy  there. 
She  had  heard  the  dog  bark,  and  had  made  haste 
to  get  out  of  his  way.  Then,  finding  one  of  her 
children  missing,  she  knew  that  something  had 
happened  or  was  going  to  happen.  She  was  sure 
of  it.  She  heard  the  dog  running,  and  she  knew 
the  missing  young  one  would  be  caught.  If  he 
was  n't  caught,  she  hoped  he  would  be  badly 
scared ;  it  would  serve  him  right  for  not  obeying 
the  rules  she  had  made. 

"  When  I  got  home,  you  may  know  I  was  tired. 
Mammy  dried  my  clothes  while  I  told  her  what 
had  happened,  and  she  would  hardly  believe  it; 
but  she  could  plainly  hear  the  man  calling  his 
dog,  first  with  his  voice  and  then  with  his  horn. 
He  kept  that  up  for  some  time,  and  finally,  on 
his  way  home,  he  passed  right  under  our  house, 
calling  his  dog  and  tooting  his  horn ;  and  I  was 
the  only  one  of  the  family  that  dared  to  look  out 
{is  he  went  by. 

"  Well,  I  had  no  more  adventures  until  one 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  207 

night,  having  come  home  myself,  I  heard  a  crowd 
of  dogs  barking.  The  noise  they  made  grew 
louder  and  louder,  and  presently  I  heard  mammy 
climbing  the  tree  as  hard  as  she  could.  She 
came  up  so  fast  that  I  could  hear  pieces  of  bark 
fall  to  the  ground.  She  was  scared  nearly  to 
death. 

"  '  They  are  after  me,'  she  cried,  '  and  I  did  n't 
have  time  to  take  to  water  ! '  Sure  enough,  the 
dogs  came  charging  through  the  bushes,  howling 
and  panting  like  mad,  and  they  gathered  around 
the  tree  and  howled  and  barked  until  the  men 
came  up  with  torches.  I  was  curious  to  see  what 
was  going  on,  though  the  others  were  too  fright- 
ened to  move.  I  came  out  and  sat  on  the  limb 
and  looked  down  at  them.  They  were  all  black 
men,  except  one.  The  one  that  had  the  biggest 
torch  held  it  behind  him  and  moved  it  back  and 
forth  behind  him. 

"  '  There  he  is,'  he  yelled,  <  I  see  his  eyes ! ' 
The  man  with  a  cut-thing  began  to  hit  the  tree. 
I  never  knew  what  was  going  to  happen  until  the 
tree  began  to  sway.  Then  I  could  feel  it  falling. 
As  it  fell,  I  ran  down  the  tree  until  I  came  to  one 
of  the  largest  limbs,  and,  by  the  time  I  had 


208  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

climbed  that,  the  tree  hit  the  ground  with  a  noise 
that  sounded  as  the  clouds  sound  when  they  clap 
together  and  make  a  big,  quick  shine.  The  limb 
shook  so  hard  that  I  came  near  falling  off ;  but  I 
held  on  the  best  I  could,  and  in  a  moment  I  heard 
a  great  noise  of  fighting,  screaming,  howling, 
and  growling.  I  was  wild  with  fear,  but  I  could 
do  nothing.  Close  to  the  limb  I  was  clinging  to 
was  a  black  man  holding  a  torch.  The  light 
blinded  my  eyes,  and  the  hot  smoke  stifled  me. 
I  thought  none  had  seen  me,  but  the  man  who 
was  not  a  black  man  was  standing  apart  from  the 
others,  and  when  I  looked  at  him  I  found  he  was 
looking  at  me. 

"  I  kept  looking  at  him,  and  he  at  me,  until 
I  was  no  longer  afraid.  I  had  the  feeling  that 
he  was  a  friend "  (close  to  cousin-thing),  "  and 
I  wanted  to  go  to  him.  But  how  could  I  ?  It 
was  the  Son  of  Ben  AH,  and  he  said  nothing  to 
the  others.  But  the  thick  smoke  came  in  my 
nose,  and  I  sneezed.  The  black  man  yelled, 
'  Here  's  another  ! '  and  climbed  on  the  tree.  He 
was  about  to  strike  me  with  the  torch,  but  the 
Son  of  Ben  AH  said,  (  Wait ! '  He  came  to  the 
limb,  stretched  out  his  hand  to  me,  and  I  touched 


'I   WAS    WILD   WITH    FEAR' 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  COON.  209 

it  with  my  tongue.  t  Come,'  he  said.  I  jumped 
to  his  shoulder  and  felt  safe ;  but  when  he  car- 
ried me  among  the  strange  ones,  when  I  saw  the 
dogs  nosing  around  with  blood  on  their  ears,  and 
when  I  saw  my  mammy  and  the  others  lying 
there  moving  no  more,  fear  came  again,  and  but 
for  the  Son  of  Ben  Ali's  hand  and  voice  I  should 
have  jumped  down  into  the  middle  of  the  pack. 

"  The  Son  of  Ben  Ali  gave  me  to  a  friend  to 
take  care  of,  and  though  I  went  hungry  many 
a  time,  it  was  not  the  fault  of  the  black  man. 
Maybe  he  was  hungry  himself,  and  his  wife  and 
children,  too;  or  maybe  he  was  too  busy  to 
remember  me.  But  now  I  'm  here,  and  if  you  '11 
excuse  me  I  '11  take  a  nap." 

Mr.  Coon  opened  his  mouth  wide  to  gape, 
cuddled  down  in  the  corner,  and  was  soon  sound 
asleep. 


XIII. 

FLIT,   THE    FLYING    SQUIRREL. 

MR.  COON  was  a  nine  days'  wonder  with  the 
children,  but  it  fell  out  with  him  as  it  falls  out 
with  everything  we  possess  —  he  ceased  to  he 
interesting.  He  was  not  neglected  so  far  as  his 
food  was  concerned,  but  he  ceased  to  be  the 
centre  of  attraction.  Other  things  won  the  at- 
tention of  the  youngsters,  who  were  in  no  wise 
different  in  this  respect  from  other  children,  or 
from  their  elders.  Especially  was  this  the  case 
when,  one  day,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  who  was 
going  to  move  to  town  with  her  former  master, 
came  to  bid  them  all  good-by.  To  Aunt  Minervy 
Ann  this  going  to  town  was  like  traveling  to 
some  foreign  country,  though  the  town  was  but 
a  short  distance  from  her  old  home. 

She  came  to  say  good-by  to  all  the  children,  as 
well  as  to  the  grown  folks.  On  her  arm  she  had 
a  small  basket,  and  this,  she  declared,  contained 


FLIT,   THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  211 

a  small  present  for  Buster  John  and  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Ef  you  had  ter  guess  what  't  wuz  'f o'  you  got 
it,  I  'd  hafter  tote  dis  basket  back  home  widout 
takin'  de  led  off."  So  much  she  said  by  way  of 
preface. 

"  It 's  a  bird,"  Sweetest  Susan  guessed. 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  laughed  and  shook  her 
head.  "  It  can  fly  some,"  she  admitted  ;  "  but 
't  ain't  no  bird." 

"  It 's  a  bat,"  guessed  Buster  John. 

"  Bey  ain't  no  feathers  on  it ;  but  't  ain't  no 
bat." 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  a  flying  fish,"  said  Buster 
John. 

Again  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  shook  her  head. 
"  'T  ain't  no  flyin'  fish.  Ef  you  want  flyin'  fish, 
you  '11  hafter  go  ter  dem  what  seed  um  fly." 

"  Why  don't  you  guess,  Brasilia?  "  said  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

"  Kaze  I  already  know  what  't  is,"  replied 
Brasilia. 

"  What  is  it,  den  ? "  snapped  Aunt  Minervy 
Ann. 

"It's  a  whipperwill.  Bat's  what  'tis,"  re- 
plied Brasilia. 


212  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"Ef  I  had  de  will,  I'd  whip  you  here  an* 
now  !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  earnestly ; 
"  dat  's  how  much  whipperwill  I  got  in  dish  yer 
basket/' 

"  Don't  tell  us  what  it  is/'  said  Buster  John. 
"  Just  tell  us  a  little  something  about  it,  and  let 
us  guess." 

"  Well,"  replied  Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  "  it  kin 
fly,  yit  't  ain't  got  no  wings  ter  flop.  It  makes  a 
nes'  in  de  tree,  and  yit  't  ain't  no  bird." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  it  is!"  cried  Sweetest 
Susan  ;  "  it 's  a  —  it 's  a  —  what  is  it,  brother  ? 
You  know." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Buster  John. 
"But  if  I  was  going  to  make  a  sure  enough 
guess,  I  'd  say  it  is  a  flying  squirrel." 

"  Dar,  now ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Minervy  Ann, 
laughing.  "  De  mule's  yone."  This  was  a  cur- 
rent expression  among  the  negroes  when  they 
surrendered  an  argument  or  settled  a  contention. 
The  one  who  was  shown  to  be  in  the  wrong  in 
any  matter  would  say,  "  De  mule 's  yone." 

So  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  carefully  lifted  the 
cover  of  the  basket,  reached  her  hand  in,  and 
drew  forth  the  cunningest  and  most  beautiful 


DEY   AIN'T   NO    FEATHERS   ON   IT;    BUT  'T  AIN'T   NO   BAT1 


FLIT,   THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  213 

little  creature  the  children  had  ever  seen  —  the 
daintiest  and  cutest  of  all  the  tribe  of  four-footed 
animals. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  Sweetest  Susan 
went  into  ecstasies  over  this  wonderful  little  crea- 
ture, which  can  fly  without  wings ;  and  which, 
though  it  is  the  wildest  and  most  elusive  of  ani- 
mals, is  tame  the  moment  it  is  captured.  It  lay 
cuddled  in  Aunt  Minervy's  hand  in  apparent  con- 
tent, and  closed  its  pretty  eyes  as  she  gently 
stroked  it. 

"  Oh,  it 's  mine  !  it 's  mine !  "  cried  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Well,  take  it  then,"  said  Buster  John,  with 
apparent  generosity. 

Sweetest  Susan  held  out  her  hands,  and  then 
drew  them  back,  as  her  brother  knew  she  would. 
"  Is  it  quite  tame  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He 's  tame  ter  me,!'  responded  Aunt  Minervy 
Ann.  "  I  cotch  him  yistiddy." 

"  Then  he  's  not  tame,"  said  Sweetest  Susan 
decisively,  putting  her  hands  behind  her. 

She  was  sorry  the  next  moment,  for  Buster 
John,  remembering  what  he  had  heard  old  Foun- 
tain say  about  the  harmlessness  of  flying  squirrels, 


214  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

and  how  sinful  it  was  to  kill  them,  since  the  act 
always  brought  bad  luck,  lifted  the  little  creature 
tenderly  from  Aunt  Minervy  Ann's  hand  and 
placed  it  in  his  own.  Then,  relenting  a  little,  he 
placed  it  in  Sweetest  Susan's  hand. 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  nodded  her  head  vigorously 
at  this,  and  drew  Buster  John  toward  her,  ex- 
claiming, "  Ef  you  allers  do  dat,  you  '11  make  a 
fine  man,  —  a  mighty  fine  man  !  "  And,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  though  Buster  John  forgot  most 
of  the  fine-spun  advice  received  from  his  elders, 
he  never  failed  to  remember  this  simple  state- 
ment of  Aunt  Minervy  Ann's.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  Aunt  Minervy  Ann's  words  were  charged 
with  earnestness.  Anyhow,  they  stuck  in  the 
lad's  mind  and  stayed  there. 

It  was  all  Sweetest  Susan  could  do  to  keep 
from  "  loving  the  flying  squirrel  to  death,"  as  she 
said.  Its  coat  was  as  smooth,  and  as  soft,  and  as 
fine  as  silk,  and  it  seemed  to  enjoy  the  stroking 
and  gentle  caresses  to  which  Sweetest  Susan  sub- 
jected it.  Even  Drusilla  was  delighted  with  the 
flying  squirrel,  and  wanted  to  hold  it  in  her  apron, 
being  afraid  to  touch  it  with  her  hands. 

"He's  mighty  purty,"  she  said;  "but  I  tell 


FLIT,   THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  215 

you  now,  he  got  long  tushes  in  dem  little  jaws. 
Ef  you  don't  b'lieve  me,  you  kin  des  look  an' 
see." 

Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  too  much 
interested  in  the  beauties  of  the  little  creature  to 
expose  any  of  its  ugly  features,  even  if  it  had 
any.  They  had  never  seen  a  flying  squirrel  be- 
fore. There  were  many  of  this  species  on  the 
place,  but  they  were  so  shy  and  elusive  that  the 
children  caught  only  fleeting  glimpses  of  them 
between  sunset  and  dark.  They  could  see  some- 
thing flit  before  their  eyes,  swooping  from  some 
tall  tree  nearly  to  the  ground,  then  circling  up- 
ward to  another  tree ;  they  could  hear  a  chirping 
curiously  like  that  of  a  sparrow,  and  the  flying 
squirrel  would  be  gone  —  if  it  could  be  said  to 
have  come.  Therefore  the  little  fellow  in  hand 
was  twice  precious,  once  for  the  sake  of  its  beauty, 
and  once  for  the  sake  of  its  rarity. 

"  I  don't  see  how  anybody  ever  cotch  one  un 
nm,"  remarked  Drusilla.  "  You  see  um  —  flip  ! 
—  an'  deyer  gone  !  " 

"  How  did  you  catch  him,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  ?" 
asked  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  I  ain't  got  time  ter  tell  you  right  dis  minnit," 


216  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

replied  Aunt  Minervy  Ann.  "  I  '11  go  tell  de 
niggers  on  de  place  good-by,  an'  den  I  '11  come 
back,  an'  ef  you  ain't  fin'  out  fer  yo'se'f,  I  '11  up 
an'  tell  you  —  kaze  I  hear  a  heap  er  talk  'mongst 
my  color  how  A' on  done  larnt  you-all  how  ter  talk 
wid  de  creeturs.  I  ain't  never  b'lieved  it  myse'f ; 
but  if  you-all  tell  me  how  I  cotch  'im  atter  I 
come  back  f um  de  quarters,  den  I  '11  know  it 's  so. 
Dey  's  sump'n  in  me  dat  tells  me  right  pine-blank 
dat  ef  folks  can't  talk  wid  de  creeturs  it 's  der  own 
fault ;  an'  yit,  when  you  come  ter  think  'bout  it 
hard  an'  strong,  it  don't  look  natchual." 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  went  her  way  for  the  time 
being,  and  Sweetest  Susan,  holding  the  flying 
squirrel  against  her  rosy  face,  said :  — 

"  Your  name  is  Flit.  Remember  that,  please. 
Now,  Flit,  you  must  tell  us  something  about  y&ur- 
self  and  how  you  happened  to  let  Aunt  Minervy 
Ann  catch  you." 

"Who  is  that  talking?"  chirped  the  flying 
squirrel.  "  I  'm  awfully  sleepy.  This  is  my  time 
for  sleeping.  What  is  '  Flit '  ?  " 

"  Flit  is  your  name,  I  'd  have  you  to  know," 
replied  Sweetest  Susan,  "  and  I  want  you  to  tell 
us  about  yourself." 


FLIT,   THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  217 

"  Well,  give  me  some  water,"  said  Flit  (his 
words  sounded  like  the  notes  of  the  song  spar- 
row), "and  don't  keep  me  awake  too  long.  I 
did  n't  have  any  sleep  yesterday,  and  I  have  n't 
slept  any  to-day." 

"You  should  be  good  and  sleep  at  night," 
Sweetest  Susan  declared. 

"  I  can't  sleep  when  I  'm  hungry,  and  when 
the  shine-ball  goes  down  I  have  to  wake  and  hunt 
for  food.  I  'm  awfully  sleepy  now,  and  hungry, 
too ! " 

"  Whar  dat  box  er  scaly-barks  you-all  had  ?  " 
inquired  Drusilla.  "  Ef  you  '11  git  some,  I  '11  go 
crack  um." 

"  What  are  scaly-barks  ?  "  asked  Flit. 

"  Small  hickory  nuts,"  replied  Sweetest  Susan. 

Instantly  Flit  was  wide  awake,  making  a  chat- 
tering noise  such  as  a  small  bird  might  make. 
"  That  is  the  very  thing  I  want.  Make  haste, 
make  haste  !  "  he  cried. 

Drusilla  was  soon  cracking  the  scaly-barks, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Flit  was  sitting  on  his 
hind  legs  in  Sweetest  Susan's  hand,  eating  the 
"  goody,"  as  the  children  called  it,  as  fast  as  Bus- 
ter John  could  pick  it  out  with  an  old  shoe- 


218  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

maker's  awl.  The  little  creature  was  very  dainty 
about  it,  too.  If  the  meat  of  the  scaly-bark  hap* 
pened  to  be  the  least  spoiled  or  worm-eaten,  he 
promptly  rejected  it  and  called  for  better  food. 
And  between  times  he  told  of  some  of  his  recent 
adventures. 

"  Not  so  very  long  ago,"  said  Flit,  looking  curi- 
ously at  a  piece  of  the  meat  of  a  scaly-bark,  and 
turning  it  over  and  over  in  his  nimble  forepaws, 
"  I  went  home  before  the  shine-ball  came  out, 
and  there  I  found  a  big  black  snake  curled  up  in 
my  bed.  He  raised  his  head  and  made  his  tongue 
quiver,  and  I  was  afraid  to  go  in.  I  did  n't  know 
what  to  do.  I  knew  if  the  shine-ball  came  out 
and  found  me  away  from  home  that  I  would  n't 
be  able  to  see  what  was  going  on,  for  the  shine- 
ball  is  so  bright  that  it  hurts  my  eyes. 

"  I  wandered  about  among  the  trees,  jumping 
from  one  to  the  other,  until  finally  I  remembered 
where  a  woodpecker  had  had  a  nest  in  a  big  pine 
not  far  off.  I  had  seen  him  hiding  some  acorns 
there,  and  at  night  I  used  to  go  there  and  see 
how  they  tasted,  and  I  thought  if  I  could  get 
there  by  the  time  the  shine-ball  came  out  I  could 
get  a  little  rest.  Well,  I  went  to  the  pine  and 


FLIT,   THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  219 

crawled  into  the  woodpecker's  nest.  But  it  was 
very  uncomfortable,  and  had  a  bad  smell.  There 
was  no  soft  bed  in  it,  such  as  I  had  at  home,  and 
everything  about  it  was  rough.  The  door  — 
Now  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  eat  all  the  good 
ones  yourself  and  pick  out  the  bad  ones  for  me. 
Why,  that  last  piece  was  black  on  one  side." 

This  was  addressed  to  Buster  John,  whose 
appetite  for  scaly-barks  had  asserted  itself  when 
he  began  to  pick  out  the  "  goodies  "  for  Flit. 

"  There  —  now  that 's  better,"  said  Flit,  with  a 
satisfied  chirp.  "  The  door  of  the  woodpecker's 
house  looked  towards  the  place  where  the  shine- 
ball  comes  from,  and  everything  about  it  seemed 
to  be  wrong.  But  it  was  the  best  I  could  do.  I 
crept  in  and  curled  up  for  such  sleep  as  I  could 
get  in  such  a  place.  I  went  to  sleep,  too,  for  I 
was  very  tired.  How  long  I  slept  I  don't  know, 
but  when  I  woke  I  was  hot.  The  shine-ball  was 
looking  right  in  the  door,  and  I  was  nearly  suffo- 
cated." 

At  this  point  Flit  pretended  to  sneeze  to  show 
how  he  suffered  from  the  heat. 

"  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  this  I 
did.  I  crawled  out  and  went  halfway  down  the 


220  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

tree,  where  the  trunk  was  large  enough  lo  hide 
the  shine-ball.  There  I  stretched  myself  out  on 
a  limb  and  tried  to  believe  I  felt  better.  Did  T 
tell  you  the  tree  was  dead  ?  Well,  it  was.  Out- 
side of  the  woodpecker's  home  there  was  n't  a 
hiding  place  in  it.  The  pine  was  standing  alone, 
and  the  only  way  to  reach  the  thick  woods  where 
I  lived  was  to  travel  a  part  of  the  way  on  a  zig- 
zag fence. 

"  Now,  I  don't  like  to  do  this.  To  be  out  in 
the  light  is  bad  enough,  but  to  travel  on  a  fence 
with  a  shine-ball  and  everything  else  looking  at 
you  is  worse  still.  So  I  stretched  out  on  the  big 
limb  not  far  from  the  ground,  and  tried  to  be 
content.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  lay  there,  but 
all  of  a  sudden  I  felt  the  wind  rushing  down  on 
me,  and  under  the  limb  I  went  like  a  flash  —  and 
none  too  soon,  for  as  I  went  under,  a  big  hawk 
came  swishing  by  so  close  that  I  could  almost 
feel  her  feathers  brush  me.  Well,  I  was  so 
frightened  I  began  to  pant.  I  had  often  heard 
of  hawks,  and  had  been  warned  against  them, 
but  I  never  saw  one  before.  Did  you  ever  see 
one  ?  They  are  terrible. 

"  This  hawk  was  not  satisfied.     She  swooped 


FLIT,  THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  221 

and  circled  as  I  do  "when  I  make  a  long  flying 
jump  from  tree  to  tree.  She  circled  upward  and 
sailed  around  overhead.  I  could  n't  see  very  well 
for  the  glare  of  the  shine-ball." 

"  What  de  name  er  goodness  is  de  shine-ball  ?  " 
inquired  Drusilla. 

"  Why,  it 's  the  sun,  goosey,"  answered  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

"I  couldn't  see  very  well,"  said  Flit,  "and 
so  I  went  on  top  of  the  limb  again  ;  but  I  had 
hardly  stretched  out  there,  thinking  the  hawk 
was  gone,  when  I  felt  the  wind  again,  and  this 
time  she  did  n't  miss  me  more  than  the  width  of 
one  of  my  whiskers.  Up  went  the  hawk  again, 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  stay 
under  the  limb.  But  this  did  n't  help  me  much. 
The  hawk  began  to  call  her  mate,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  there  were  two  of  them  sailing  around. 
The  biggest  one  came  slowly  down  and  lit  on  the 
limb  right  over  me.  She  leaned  forward  and 
looked  at  me ;  and  of  all  the  horrible  creatures 
you  ever  saw,  she  was  the  most  horrible.  She 
breathed  as  loud  as  a  'possum  snores. 

"  I  came  very  near  dropping  from  the  limb.  I 
moved  toward  the  body  of  the  tree,  and  the 


222  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

hawk  moved  after  me  and  tried  to  reach  me  with 
her  hooked  beak.  I  made  a  dash  and  went  round 
the  body  of  the  tree,  and  as  I  did  so  the  hawk's 
mate  came  swooping  down.  By  this  time  the 
other  hawk  was  on  the  wing,  and  by  the  time  I 
darted  on  the  other  side  she  was  ready  to  swoop. 
This  would  n't  have  lasted  long.  Some  one  came 
along  and  said  e  shoo '  to  the  hawks,  and  they  flew 
away,  and  then  I  felt  that  same  somebody  take 
me  from  the  tree  more  dead  than  alive." 

"  Where  are  your  brothers  and  sisters  ?  "  asked 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Well,  you  know  how  it  is  in  the  woods  and 
fields ;  it  is  everybody  for  himself,  and  everything 
for  itself.  Once  out  of  the  nest,  you  must  look  out 
for  yourself.  As  for  my  brothers  and  sisters,  I 
would  n't  know  them,  if  I  were  to  see  them,  and 
they  would  n't  know  me.  Sometimes  I  see  my 
mother,  and  she  always  has  a  hickory  nut  or  a 
sweet  acorn  to  give  me ;  but  as  for  the  rest,  I 
know  nothing  about  them.  It  is  very  comfortable 
here,  where  you  have  somebody  to  clean  out  the 
hickory  nuts  for  you,  and  I  suppose  I  '11  never 
see  any  of  my  kind  any  more.  A  little  more 
water,  if  you  please  —  just  a  drop.  Thank  you ! 


SHE    LEANED   FORWARD   AND   LOOKED   AT   ME' 


FLIT,  THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  223 

Now,  if  you  '11  put  me  in  a  nice  soft  place  I  'd 
like  to  take  a  nap." 

But  before  Flit  could  get  any  sleep,  the  chil- 
dren felt  in  duty  bound  to  show  him  to  their 
mother  and  to  their  grandfather.  The  White- 
Haired  Master,  who  never  allowed  any  one  to  kill 
or  pursue  the  gray  squirrels  on  his  place,  took 
the  liveliest  interest  in  Flit.  He  carried  him  to 
the  library,  sent  for  some  ginned  cotton,  and 
made  him  a  nest  behind  some  books  on  the  top 
shelf,  which  was  not  too  high  for  the  children  to 
climb  to;  and  there,  for  many  a  long  day,  he 
made  his  home. 

The  library  was  in  a  room  that  had  not  been 
originally  built  for  holding  books,  and  the  shelves 
were  built  against  a  window,  the  back  of  them 
being  boxed  in  at  that  point.  Flit  soon  dis- 
covered that  there  was  a  broken  pane  behind  this 
boxing,  which  gave  him  an  easy  way  of  going 
out  and  coming  in.  He  went  out  and  in  to  so 
much  purpose  that  he  soon  brought  a  wife  home, 
and  before  the  summer  was  over,  he  had  a  very 
interesting  family  composed  of  his  wife  and  four 
plump  children,  —  the  wonder  and  delight  of 
Sweetest  Susan,  and  indeed  of  all  who  saw  them. 


224  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

Mrs.  Flit  was  shy  at  first  and  insisted  on  scrambling 
out  in  great  haste  when  Buster  John  or  Sweetest 
Susan  came  to  see  the  little  ones,  but  she  soon 
grew  accustomed  to  these  visits.  The  four  young 
ones  were  as  tame  as  kittens  from  the  first,  and 
remained  so ;  and  it  was  sometimes  amusing  to 
see  them  swoop  down  from  the  top  shelf  to  the 
head  of  some  unsuspecting  visitor  who  had  been 
carried  to  the  library,  where  the  White-Haired 
Master  transacted  all  his  business.  Sometimes 
the  wives  of  the  neighboring  farmers,  who  called 
on  business,  were  purposely  asked  into  the  library 
by  one  or  the  other  of  the  children.  They  never 
failed  to  utter  wild  screams  when  they  found  a 
wild  thing  about  the  size  of  a  big  rat  running 
about  over  their  heads  and  shoulders. 

Incidentally,  the  children  learned  one  interest- 
ing fact  in  natural  history  from  Flit.  They  had 
heard,  or  had  read,  that  squirrels  store  up  nuts 
for  winter  use.  But  when  they  mentioned  this, 
Flit's  surprise  was  great. 

"  Why,  what  nonsense !  "  he  chirped.  "  In  cold 
weather  we  find  plenty  on  the  ground  under  the 
leaves,  and  in  the  trees,  too.  We  bury  them  for 
use  in  summer,  before  the  acorns  and  nuts  are 


FLIT,  THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  225 

ripe,  but  we  don't  need  them  much  after  the 
whiskers  begin  to  grow  on  the  roasting  ears  in 
the  fields.  When  the  weather  is  very,  very  cold, 
we  sleep,  and  nobody  gets  hungry  when  asleep." 

After  so  long  a  time,  the  voice  of  Aunt  Mi- 
nervy  Ann  was  heard,  calling  the  children.  She 
had  been  around  to  the  quarters,  saying  good-by 
to  the  negroes  she  found  there,  and  sending  fare- 
wells to  those  who  were  absent.  Major  Tumlin 
Perdue,  her  former  master,  and  Miss  Vallie,  her 
young  mistress,  were  going  to  move  to  town,  and 
town  was  a  great  place  in  Aunt  Minervy  Ann's 
imagination.  To  go  there  to  live  was  something 
wonderful ;  she  did  n't  feel  at  all  certain  that 
any  of  her  old  friends  would  ever  see  her  again, 
and  she  said  so,  shaking  her  head  solemnly. 

"  You  see  me  now,  an'  you  better  look  at  me 
good,  kaze  I  dunno  when  you  '11  see  me  any  mo'. 
When  you  tell  ol'  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  Perdue 
good-by  now,  it  may  be  fer  de  las'  time.  Marse 
Tumlin  an'  Miss  Vallie  gwine,  an'  I  'm  bleeze  ter 
go  wid  um  fer  ter  keep  up  de  name  er  de  fambly. 
I  dunno  nothin'  'tall  about  deze  town  doin's; 
dey  may  wipe  me  up,  er  dey  may  wipe  me  down, 
er  dey  may  wipe  me  off'n  de  face  er  de  yeth; 


226  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

but  you  kin  put  yo'  'pen'ence  in  one  thing :  01' 
Minervy  Ann  Perdue  will  be  dar  whiles  de  wipin* 
gwine  on.  You  kin  lay  your  las'  thrip  on  dat." 

Having  told  the  negroes  good-by  in  this  solemn 
manner,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  now  came  to  tell  the 
white  folks  farewell.  And  first  she  called  for 
Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan ;  but  the  chil- 
dren would  not  hear  to  any  good-by  so  early  in 
the  day.  They  insisted  that  Aunt  Minervy  Ann 
should  stay  to  dinner  and  tell  them  a  story.  She 
protested,  and  they  insisted.  Finally,  driven  into 
a  corner,  she  exclaimed :  — 

"  Ef  you  tell  me  'zackly  how  I  cotch  dat  ar 
flyin'  squir'l,  I  '11  stay  an'  tell  you  a  tale  'bout  a 
diamon'  mine  dat  I'd  like  might'ly  ter  happen 
wid  Marse  Tumlin,  if  it  had  'a'  been  a  sho  'nuff 
diamon'  mine.  But  you  got  ter  tell  me  de  fust 
pop ;  no  guessin'." 

"  Tell  her,  brother,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Well,"  remarked  Buster  John,  "  two  hawks 
were  after  the  squirrel.  He  was  on  a  dead  pine. 
One  would  try  to  catch  him,  and  then  the  other. 
You  came  along  through  the  field  and  saw  the 
hawks,  and  drove  them  away.  Then  you  saw 
Flit,  and  picked  him  up  and  carried  him  home." 


FLIT,  THE  FLYING  SQUIRREL.  227 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  made  a  wild  gesture  of 
alarm.  "  Whar  my  things  ?  Whar  my  basket? 
I  'm  gwine  'way  f um  here.  I  ain't  gwine  ter  stay 
whar  witcherments  gwine  on  in  de  broad  light  er 
day !  Gi'  me  my  basket  an'  lemme  go ! " 

But  the  children  knew  she  was  only  pretend- 
ing. So  they  clung  to  her,  and  insisted  on  the 
story. 


XIV. 

THE   DIAMOND    MINE. 

"  I  KNOW  what  you-all  want,"  said  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann,  with  an  air  of  protest.  "You 
want  me  ter  tell  one  er  dem  ar  creetur  tales.  But 
I  kin  tell  you  mo'  tales  'bout  folks  dan  what  I 
kin  'bout  creeturs.  I  b'lieve  de  creetur  tales, 
tooby  sho ;  I  dunner  how  anybody  kin  he'p 
b'lievin'  um,  but  dey  all  tell  'bout  de  time  when 
de  creeturs  wuz  kinder  up  in  de  worl'  like  folks 
is  now.  But  sence  den,  look  like  dey  been  takin' 
de  wrong  kinder  doctor  truck,  bekaze  deyer  done 
swunk  up  so  dey  hatter  hide  out.  Dey  ain't  quit 
talkin',  kaze  I  hear  um  say  dat  A'on  an'  you-all 
know  how  ter  hoi'  confabs  wid  um.  But  dey 
ain't  nigh  what  dey  useter  be.  Folks  done  come 
in  an'  tuck  der  place.  I  dunno  dat  anybody  er 
anything  is  been  bettered  by  de  change ;  but  dar 
dey  is,  an'  here  we  is,  an'  we-all  an'  dem  will 
hatter  scuffle  'roun'  an'  do  de  best  we  kin." 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  229 

"  Well,  anyhow,  you  told  us  one  tale  the  other 
day,  and  you  '11  have  to  tell  us  another  to  make 
it  even.  You  know  more  than  one."  This  was 
Buster  John's  argument. 

"  Please  stay  to  dinner  and  tell  us  one,  just 
one.  We  are  going  to  have  crablanders."  This 
was  Sweetest  Susan's  plea. 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  looked  at  the  little  girl  and 
laughed.  "  Honey,  you  know  my  weakness 
mighty  well.  Crablanders  !  I  ain't  seed  none  in 
so  long  dat  I  dunno  what  dey  look  like,  much 
less  how  dey  make  um.  I  know  de  name,  an* 
'member  de  tas'e,  but  dat 's  all." 

"  Why,  they  boil  sweet  potatoes  till  they  are 
soft,  scrape  the  skin  off,  mash  them,  sprinkle 
sugar  on  them,  and  then  wrap  them  in  piecrust 
and  put  them  in  the  oven  to  bake,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Sho  'nuff  sugar,  honey  ? "  inquired  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  solemnly.  "  We  ain't  had  no  sho 
'nuff  sugar  at  our  house  sence  de  battlin'  start 
up." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sweetest  Susan ;  "  real  sugar. 
We  have  a  barrelful." 

"  A  whole  bairlful !  Eun  git   de   key  er   de 


230  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

sto'house  an'  lemme  kneel  down  by  dat  bairl  an1 
hug  it." 

The  children  laughed,  and  Sweetest  Susan  pre- 
tended to  be  going  after  the  keys,  but  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  detained  her.  "  Don't  do  dat, 
honey.  Miss  Rachel 'd  think  dat  ol'  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  Perdue  come  yer  fer  ter  say 
'  howdy  '  ter  de  vittles,  stidder  sayin'  '  good-by  ' 
ter  de  folks." 

She  paused  and  looked  at  the  children  seriously. 
"  I  '11  stay  sence  I  hear  you  say  '  dinner,'  kaze  we 
don't  have  too  many  dinners  at  our  house,  an' 
dem  we  does  have  ain't  gwine  give  nobody  de 
dyspepshy.  Whar  Miss  Rachel  ?  I  got  sump'n 
I  wanter  tell  her,  an'  den,  atter  dinner,  I  '11  tell 
you  a  tale,  an'  den  I  '11  take  my  foot  in  my  han' 
an'  go  on  'bout  my  business  —  an'  it  '11  be  a  long 
time  more  'fo'  you  see  ol'  Minervy  Ann  Perdue." 

The  children's  mother  was  in  her  room  sewing, 
and  thither  they  piloted  Aunt  Minervy  Ann. 
Then  they  went  to  amuse  themselves  the  best 
they  could  until  after  dinner.  What  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  had  to  tell  their  mother  must  have 
been  very  funny,  for  presently  they  heard  her 
laughing  so  loudly  that  they  looked  at  each  other 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  231 

and  laughed,  too,  in  pure  sympathy.  For  a  very 
long  time  they  had  not  heard  their  mother  laugh 
so  heartily  and  so  loud,  and  it  gave  them  pleasure 
to  hear  her  now. 

After  a  while  —  a  very  long  while  it  seemed  to 
the  children  —  the  tinkling  bell  announced  din- 
ner, and  after  that  meal  was  over  they  waited 
patiently  for  Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  who  was  having 
her  dinner  in  the  kitchen,  where  she  paid  Jemimy 
the  highest  of  compliments  by  eating  a  great  deal 
of  everything  that  came  to  hand.  "  'T  ain't  de 
yappetite,  chile ;  it 's  de  cookin'.  I  useter  b'lieve 
dat  I  could  do  sump'n  wid  de  pots  an'  ovens  my- 
se'f,  but  you  young  folks  done  got  clean  ahead  er 
we  ol'  ones.  I  hate  ter  say  it,  but  de  truf e  mought 
ez  well  be  tol',  speshually  when  it  can't  be  hid." 

This  was  the  sort  of  flattery  Jemimy  appre- 
ciated, and  she  piled  Aunt  Minervy  Ann's  plate 
high  with  the  best  the  kitchen  afforded.  Then 
when  the  guest  had  finished,  Jemimy  pressed  her 
to  have  something  else,  and  declared  that  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  had  been  "  mincin'  an'  not  eatin'." 

Finally,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  having  swallowed 
as  much  as  she  could,  announced  her  intention 
*)f  Vunting  for  the  children ;  but  she  did  n't  have 


232  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

to  hunt  at  all,  for  they  were  outside  the  kitchen 
door.  They  would  have  been  inside  but  for  the 
fact  that  they  had  been  warned  that  they  must 
not  watch  other  people  while  they  were  eating, 
neither  at  the  table  in  the  dining  room  nor  any- 
where else. 

Aunt  Minervy  Ann  wiped  her  mouth  with  the 
back  of  her  hand  and  laughed  when  she  saw 
them. 

"  You-all  is  de  outdoin'est  white  chillun  I  ever 
laid  eyes  on.  You  des  grab  holt  er  folks  an' 
wring  tales  out'n  um  des  like  dey  wring  chicken 
heads  off.  How  you  know  I  got  any  tale  ter 
tell  ?  I  boun'  you  'd  be  sorry  fer  yo'se'f  ef  I  wuz 
ter  start  in  an'  make  up  a  tale." 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  these  protests,  Aunt 
Minervy  Ann  went  around  to  the  front  veranda, 
saying,  "  I  '11  be  dat  fur  on  my  way  home,  any- 
how," and  the  children  followed  her.  Once  there, 
she  seated  herself  on  the  steps,  and  Buster  John, 
Sweetest  Susan,  and  Drusilla  grouped  themselves 
about  her.  There  was  so  much  formality  in  this 
that  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  laughed  and  protested 
once  more. 

"  I  declar'  ter  gracious !  "  she  cried,  "  you-all 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  233 

look  so  solemn  an'  pious  dat  it  make  my  head  feel 
empty.  You  set  up  here  so  starchified,  des  like 
dey  does  in  church  'fo'  de  fust  song,  dat  ef  my 
head  had  been  full  er  tales  dey  would  n't  be  na'er 
one  in  it  now.  Why,  you  make  me  feel  like  I 
did  de  day  Brer  John  Henry  Jerding  call  on  me  at 
de  'spe'unce  meetin'.  He  say, l  Sister  Puddew,'  " 
—  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  was  a  wonderful  mimic, 
and  she  rolled  her  eyes  and  closed  them  slowly 
and  flung  her  head  back — "  '  Sister  Puddew,  what 
is  de  state  er  your  soul  ?  Is  you  still  walkin'  in 
de  er  —  de  er  —  narrer  paff  ? '  Dey  wuz  a  whole 
passul  er  niggers  dar,  men  an'  wimmin,  an'  some 
er  de  wimmin  had  up  an'  spoke,  an'  one  un  um 
spoke  so  loud  dat  she  fell  down  an'  had  ter  be 
toted  out.  Not  ter  be  outdone  by  um,  I  riz  an' 
try  ter  say  sump'n  nice,  but  my  han's  gun  ter 
trimble,  an'  my  knees  ter  shake,  an'  my  tongue 
got  up  in  de  roof  er  my  mouf  clean  out'n  my 
reach.  Well,  ef  you-all  had  been  livin'  close  ter 
we-all,  you  'd  know  ol'  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  lots 
better  'n  you  does.  When  I  foun'  I  can't  say 
what  I  wanter  say,  my  dander  riz.  I  say,  '  Sister 
Puddew,  ez  you  call  'er,  is  walkin'  right  whar  she 
wanter  walk  an'  nowhar  else,  an'  she 's  a  doin' 


234  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

lots  better  'n  some  er  dem  what  come  yer  speshu* 
ally  fer  ter  have  fits.' 

"  Brer  John  Henry  drawed  in  his  breff  an* 
fetch'd  a  long  groan.  I  'low,  '  Ef  youer  fetchin* 
dat  groan  at  me,  des  walk  outer  dat  door  dar,  an* 
I  '11  gi'  you  sump'n  ter  groan  fer,  an'  you  won't 
stop  groanin'  nudder  twel  long  atter  de  doctor 
git  holt  er  you.  Ef  you  wanter  show  off,  I  '11 
he'p  you.  I  'm  a  mighty  han'  at  he'pin'  folks, 
an'  I  '11  fix  you  so  folks  can  see  you  ez  you  is.' " 

The  truth  is,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  was  talking 
to  get  rid  of  the  embarrassment  which  had  seized 
her.  And  when  the  children  laughed  heartily  at 
her  description  of  the  "  experience  meeting,"  she 
felt  better. 

"  Now,  den,"  she  said,  "  I  sorter  feel  like  I 
wuz  at  home.  You-all  sot  down  here  and  look  at 
me  so  hard  dat  it  tuck  my  breff  'way.  An'  right 
now  I  dunno  what  I  come  'roun'  here  fer." 

"  Why,  you  were  to  tell  us  a  tale,  Aunt  Mi- 
nervy  Ann,"  Sweetest  Susan  declared. 

"What  I  wanter  know,"  remarked  Aunt  Mi- 
nervy  Ann,  "  is  why  you  come  ter  me  ter  tell  a 
tale,  when  dey  's  so  many  tale-tellers  on  de  place? 
What  de  matter  wid  dat  gal  dar  ? "  pointing  to 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  235 

Drusilla.  "She  got  a  monst'ous  nice  mammy; 
how  come  she  can't  tell  no  tale  ?  "  As  nobody 
said  anything,  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  went  on: 
"  What  kinder  tale  you  want  ?  Which  tale  mus' 
I  tell  you?" 

"  Why,  if  I  knew  which  tale  I  wanted  you  to 
tell,  I  could  tell  it  myself,"  said  Buster  John. 
"  Don't  you  know  any  more  tales  about  Brother 
Babbit  and  Brother  Fox?" 

"  Look  like  you  'd  'a'  done  got  your  fill  er  dem 
kinder  tales  by  dis  time,"  suggested  Aunt  Mi- 
nervy  Ann.  "  I  don't  git  tired  un  um  myse'f  kaze 
in  der  gwines  on  an'  in  der  windin's  up,  dem  tales 
tetches  folks  whar  dey  live  at.  Dey  does,  des  ez 
sho  ez  youer  settin'  dar.  I  had  one  in  my  head 
ter  day,  an'  I  come  mighty  nigh  tellin'  it  to  Marse 
Tumlin,  kaze  I  hear  'im  say  he  gwine  in  pardner- 
ship  wid  dat  ar  John  Jeems  Hightower,  which 
he  say  he  done  fin'  a  gol'  mine  on  his  place.  Ter 
hear  dat  man,  you  'd  think  all  he  had  ter  do  wuz 
to  go  out  in  his  back  yard  an'  git  a  bairlful  er 
pyo  gol'  wid  no  mo'  trouble  dan  shovelin'  it  up 
an'  shovelin'  it  in.  Dat  de  way  he  talk,  an'  when 
I  hear  dat,  de  tale  'bout  ol'  Brer  Fox  diamon* 
mine  pop  in  my  head.  But  I  speck  you-all  done 


236  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

hear  'bout  dat  mo'  times  dan  you  got  fingers  an* 
toes." 

But  the  children  protested  that  they  had  never 
heard  of  Brother  Fox's  diamond  mine. 

"  It  seem  like  dat  times  wuz  mighty  hard  wid 
de  creeturs,  harder  dan  what  dey  is  wid  us  right 
now,"  remarked  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  by  way  of 
preface,  "  an'  de  creeturs  had  ter  scuffle  'roun'  fer 
ter  git  vittles  ter  eat  an'  cloze  ter  w'ar.  'T  wuz 
long  'bout  de  days  when  Brer  Rabbit  nabbed  Brer 
Fox's  goobers.  Fust  dey  wuz  a  long  dry  drout', 
an'  den  a  long  wet  rain,  dat  fresh' d  de  rivers  an' 
de  creeks  an'  de  branches  out'n  de  banks,  an' 
washed  up  all  de  craps.  Dey  wuz  mo'  swimmin' 
dan  wadin',  and  mo'  wadin'  dan  walkin'  'bout  dat 
time,  an'  when  de  water  runn'd  off,  times  wuz  des 
a  leetle  bit  harder  dan  what  dey  wuz  when  de 
drout'  wuz  on. 

"  You-all  may  n't  b'lieve  it,  but  hard  times  will 
Change  habits.     Let  folks  have  plenty  ter  eat,  and 
luff  cloze  to  w'ar,  an'  dey  '11  go  on  behavin'  bet- 
jr  an'  better ;  but  stint  um,  an'  dey  '11  go  on  be- 
iavin'  wuss  an'  wuss.    Now  dat 's  de  plain,  naked 
Ee,  an'  you  '11  fin'  it  out  when  you  git  big  'nuff 
fer  ter  take  notice  er  all  de  gwines  on  you  see 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  237 

'roun'  you.  Well,  't  wuz  endurin'  deze  hard 
times  I  'm  telliu'  you  'bout  dat  de  creeturs  'gun 
ter  hunt  one  an'er  down.  Up  ter  dem  times  dey 
went  on  an'  plant  der  craps  an'  work  urn  an'  house 
um  des  like  folks  does  now.  Dey  had  der  corn 
patches  an'  der  goober  patches  an'  der  tater 
patches  an'  der  peach  orchards,  an'  dey  had  der 
barbecues  an'  dinners,  an'  ol'  Miss  Meadows  an* 
de  gals  wuz  dar  f  er  ter  have  quiltin'  bees,  an'  dey 
had  der  log  rollin's  and  sech  like. 

"  But  when  times  got  hard,  an'  den  got  wuss 
stidder  gittin'  better,  dey  drap  der  work,  kaze 
't  wan't  no  use  ter  work,  an'  den  dey  tuck  ter 
stealin',  an1  bimeby  here  dey  wuz  clawin'  and 
chawin'  one  an'er ;  de  big  ones  eatin'  de  little 
ones,  an'  de  little  ones  eatin'  de  littlest,  up  and 
down  thoo  de  woods ;  an'  f  um  dat  time  on  dey 
wuz  wil'.  Dey  quit  war'n  cloze,  an'  ha'r  grow'd 
on  um,  an'  atter  dey  'd  had  blood,  bread  did  n't 
tas'e  good  no  mo'. 

"  Yit  de  time  I  'm  gwine  ter  tell  you  'bout  wuz 
when  times  wuz  gittin'  wusser,  but  had  n't  come 
ter  de  wuss.  De  creeturs  wuz  scufflin'  an'  scram- 
blin'  fer  sump'n  ter  eat,  an'  none  'cept  de  biggest 
had  'gun  ter  claw  an'  chaw  one  an'er.  To'  dem 


238  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

hard  times  dey  had  been  a  heap  er  talk  'bout  a 
diamon'  mine  in  dem  parts,  an'  all  dat  talk  had 
been  handed  down  for  de  longest.  Brer  Wolf 
had  heard  his  great  gran' daddy  talkin'  'bout  it ; 
Brer  Fox  gran'daddy  know'd  sump'n  'bout  it,  an' 
Brer  Rabbit  gran'mammy  had  'lowed  dat  ef  she 
wuz  young  ez  she  useter  be  an'  had  good  use  er 
limbs  an'  eyes,  she  could  go  straight  an'  put  her 
han'  on  de  place  whar  de  diamon'  mine  wuz  at. 
All  de  ol'  creeturs  talked  dat  way,  an'  de  oP  ones 
'fo'  dem,  way  back  yan'  when  de  creeturs  wuz 
bigger  dan  what  hosses  is  now." 

Bigger  than  horses  !  The  children  began  to 
open  their  eyes,  and  Sweetest  Susan  snuggled  up 
to  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  with  that  delightful  thrill 
of  make-believe  dread  that  only  children  can 
feel.  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  knew  she  had  scored  a 
point. 

"  Yes,  la !  Bigger  dan  what  hosses  is  now. 
Dey  'd  set  up  cross-legged  an'  run  on  'bout  dat 
diamon'  mine  des  like  der  gran'daddies  had  done 
befo'  um,  an'  des  like  der  gran'chillun  done  atter 
um.  An'  when  de  hard  times  'gun  ter  pinch  um, 
dey  start  in  ter  hunt  fer  dat  diamon'  mine.  Ef 
dey  'd  'a'  worked  ez  hard  ez  dey  hunted,  maybe 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  239 

dey  mought  er  been  better  off  ;  anyhow  dey  'd  V 
felt  lots  better. 

"  Brer  Wolf  went  off  in  de  woods  by  hisse'f, 
an'  Brer  Fox  by  hisse'f,  an'  Brer  Rabbit  by  his- 
se'f, an'  dat  wuz  de  way  wid  all  de  yuthers.  Dey 
don't  want  nobody  ter  know  ef  dey  fin'  de  dia- 
mon'  mine.  Dey  hunt  an'  dey  hunt  from  dawn 
twel  dark,  an'  when  night  come  dey  'd  dream  'bout 
it.  But  dey  wuz  bleeze  ter  eat,  an'  some  days 
dey  'd  go  'roun'  huntin'  fer  vittles.  Brer  Rabbit 
had  some  acorns  dat  his  ol'  'oman  had  saved  up, 
an'  he  foun'  some  sugar  cane  dat  had  been  buried 
in  de  san'  when  de  freshet  come,  an'  he  got  'long 
tollable  well ;  but  he  wa'n't  none  too  fat.  Brer 
Wolf  wuz  thin  ez  a  fence  rail,  an'  Brer  Fox  wuz 
so  gaunt  dat  his  fambly  ain't  never  got  fat  down 
ter  dis  day. 

"  Well,  one  time  when  de  creeturs  wuz  takin' 
a  day  off,  Brer  Fox  he  'low  dat  he  don't  b'lieve 
dey  's  any  diamon'  mine  anywhar  'roun'  in  dat 
country.  But  Brer  Rabbit  say  his  great-gran '- 
mammy  wuz  'quainted  wid  dem  dat  own  de 
mine.  Brer  Fox  he  ax  what  der  name  wuz.  Brer 
Rabbit  'low  dat  der  name  wuz  needer  mo'  ner 
less  dan  Mammy-Bammy-Big-Money,  an'  de  way 


-240  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

she  got  her  name  wuz  on  'count  er  de  diamon* 
mine. 

"  Brer  Wolf  laugh  and  say,  *  Dat  de  trufe,  an' 
what 's  mo',  Brer  Fox  would  n't  know  a  diamon' 
fum  a  pebble  less'n  it  wuz  cleaned  an'  rubbed  up.' 

"  Brer  Fox  say,  l  Don't  dey  shine  like  dey  got 
fire  in  der  entrails  ?  ' 

"  Brer  Fox  shake  his  head  an'  'low, l  Not  less'n 
deyer  cleaned  an'  rubbed  up.' 

"  Dis  make  Brer  Fox  open  his  eye.  He  say, 
'  I  been  huntin'  fer  shine-things ;  maybe  I  done 
fin'  de  diamon'  mine  widout  knowin'  it.' 

"  '  Maybe  you  is  an'  maybe  you  ain't,'  sez  Brer 
Wolf  wid  a  grin,  an'  Brer  Rabbit  he  laugh  fit  ter 
kiU. 

"  Brer  Fox  he  ax  what  a  diamon'  look  like  'fo' 
it 's  rubbed  up  an'  made  shiny. 

"  i  Des  like  plain,  ev'y-day  dirt,'  says  Brer  Wolf, 
an'  Brer  Rabbit  'grees  wid  'im. 

"  Well,  dey  went  on  huntin'.  Dey  hunt  high 
an'  dey  hunt  low,  an'  bimeby  dey  got  so  bad 
off  an'  so  venomous  fer  vittles  dat  dey  hatter 
do  sump'n  'sides  hunt  diamon'  mines ;  an'  so, 
one  day,  when  Brer  Wolf  see  Brer  Rabbit  gwine 
'long  thoo  de  woods,  he  loped  atter  'im.  Brer 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  241 

Rabbit  seed  'im  comin',  an'  he  cantered  on  ahead. 
De  faster  Brer  Wolf  come,  de  faster  Brer  Rabbit 
went,  an'  bimeby  Brer  Rabbit  got  in  de  briar 
bush  whar  Brer  Wolf  can't  foller.  He  got  in 
dar,  he  did,  an'  set  down  an'  wipe  his  face  wid 
bofe  ban's  like  you  see  chillun  do.  Brer  Wolf 
sot  not  fur  off,  an'  he  was  so  hongry  he  fair  drib- 
ble at  de  mouf. 

"  He  say,  t  Come  yer,  Brer  Rabbit ;  I  wanter 
see  you.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  <  Look  at  me,  Brer  Wolf ; 
I  'm  in  plain  sight.  I  ain't  hidin'.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  say,  '  I  wanter  show  you  sump'n.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say,  i  I  ain't  got  pop-eyes  for 
nothin'.  I  kin  set  right  here  an'  see  anything 
you  wanter  show  me  ef  't  ain't  no  littler  dan  a 
seed-tick.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  lick  his  chops  an'  say,  '  I  got 
sump'n  I  wanter  whisper  in  yo'  year.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  '  My  years  ain't  big  fer 
nothin'.  Do  yo'  whisper'n  from  whar  you  is, 
Brer  Wolf.  I  kin  hear  you  des  ez  well,  ef  not 
better,  dan  ef  you  had  my  year  in  yo'  mouf/ 

"  Den  Brer  Wolf  walk  'roun'  an'  study. 
Bimeby  he  look  down  at  de  groun'  an'  sorter 


242  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

scratch  in  it.  Den  he  jump  up  in  de  a'r  an'  whirl 
'roun'  an'  holler  '  Goody-goody,  Brer  Rabbit !  I 
so  glad  I  projicked  wid  you  !  Goody-goody  !  I 
done  foun'  de  diamon'  mine.'  Den  he  clawed  on 
de  groun'  wid  han's  an'  foots,  an'  made  de  dirt 
and  pebbles  fly. 

"  Brer  Rabbit  sot  dar  in  de  briar  bush  an'  watch 
Brer  Wolf  fer  ter  see  what  he  gwine  do  nex'. 
Den  he  went  on  combin'  his  ha'r  wid  his  tongue 
an'  rubbin'  his  face  wid  his  han's. 

"  Brer  Wolf,  wid  one  eye  on  Brer  Rabbit,  kep' 
up  his  grabblin'  in  de  dirt.  He  holler,  '  Come 
on,  Brer  Rabbit !  Deyer  here  by  de  bushel.  De 
groun'  is  fair  strowed  wid  um  ! ' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  *  Nummine  'bout  me,  Brer 
Wolf.  Ef  dey  's  'nuff  fer  bofe,  I  '11  git  mine 
atter  you  git  all  you  want.  Ef  dey  ain't  'nuff 
fer  bofe,  't  ain't  no  use  fer  me  ter  come  out  dar 
an'  worry  you  while  you  workin'.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  grabble  harder  dan  ever.  He  say, 
'  Oh,  come  on,  Brer  Rabbit !  Don't  be  hangin' 
back  dat  away  ! ' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  '  I  'm  gwine  home  atter  a 
bag.  My  pockets  ain't  big  'nuff  fer  ter  hoi'  all 
you  say  you  gwine  ter  gi'  me/ 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  243 

"  Brer  Wolf  say,  ( Come  look  at  um,  Brer  Rab- 
bit, an'  choosen  de  size  an'  kin'  you  want.' 

"  Brer  Kabbit  'low,  '  I  'd  be  monst'us  ongrate- 
ful  ef  I  could  n't  trust  dat  ter  you,  Brer  Wolf.' 

"  Wid  dat  Brer  Rabbit  boiler,  '  Wait  fer  me, 
Brer  Wolf  !  Wait  fer  me  ! '  Den  he  make  a  big 
rustlin'  noise  in  de  briar  bush  like  he  runnin' 
thoo  um,  but  he  laid  his  ears  back  an'  drapt  on 
de  groun'  an'  watch  Brer  Wolf.  Time  Brer  Rab- 
bit made  de  rustlin'  noise,  Brer  Wolf  stopped 
grabblin',  an'  run  'roun'  de  briar  patch  fer  ter  see 
ef  he  can't  head  Brer  Rabbit  off  an'  ketch  'im. 

"  When  Brer  Rabbit  see  dat,  he  sot  up  an* 
laugh,  an'  lay  down  an'  laugh,  an'  roll  over  an' 
laugh ;  an'  ez  ef  dat  wan't  'nuff,  he  drum  on  de 
groun'  wid  his  behine  foots,  an'  it  soun'  des  like 
when  you  thump  on  a  bedtick  wid  yo'  fingers." 

"  Then  he  did  n't  catch  Brother  Rabbit?  "  said 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Who  ?  Him  !  Not  dat  day,  ner  de  nex',  ner 
not  na'er  udder  day  dat  I  ever  hear  tell  un. 
Well,  when  Brer  Wolf  got  'roun'  de  briar  patch 
an'  ain't  see  needer  ha'r  ner  hide  er  Brer  Rabbit, 
he  say  ter  hisse'f  dat  Brer  Rabbit  done  gone  on 
home  in  a  hurry,  an'  he  '11  des  waylay  'im  ez  he 


244  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

come  back.  So  he  hid  in  de  underbrush  an'  wait. 
He  wait  an'  he  wait,  but  Brer  Rabbit  ain't  come 
back,  kaze  he  was  settin'  not  twenty  yards  fum 
Brer  Wolf  an'  watchin'  his  motions,  all  de  time 
tryin'  ter  keep  fum  laughin'  out  loud. 

"  Bimeby,  who  should  come  promenadin'  'long 
but  ol'  Brer  Fox.  He  wa'n't  doin'  nothiu'  in  de 
worl'  but  huntin'  de  diamon'  mine.  Time  Brer 
"Wolf  see  'im  he  made  a  break  atter  'im,  an'  Brer 
Fox  put  out  ez  hard  ez  he  could  fer  ter  keep  outer 
de  way.  Brer  Fox  wuz  nimble  in  de  feet,  but 
Brer  Wolf  was  hongry,  an'  so  dar  't  wuz.  Bime- 
by Brer  Fox  tuck  a  tree.  Brer  Wolf  try  ter  clime 
up  atter  'im,  but  he  done  dulled  his  claws  by  grab- 
blin'  an'  dey  would  n't  hold  in  de  bark. 

"  Den  he  try  de  same  game  on  Brer  Fox  dat 
he  'd  tried  on  Brer  Rabbit.  He  look  at  de  groun'? 
turn  'roun'  a  time  er  two,  an'  start  ter  grabblin'. 
He  holler  out,  ( I  mighty  glad  I  played  de  prank 
on  you,  Brer  Fox,  kaze  you  lead  me  right  straight 
ter  de  diamon'  mine  ;  you  must  'a'  know'd  whar 
't  wuz.  Ef  you  did,  I  'm  mighty  much  bleeze  ter 
you,  kaze  de  diamon'  mine  is  right  here,  an'  you 
shan't  lose  nothin',  Brer  Fox.' 

"  Brer  Fox  look  down  at  'im,  an'  look  hard, 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  245 

but  Brer  Wolf  keep  on  grabblin'.  Brer  Fox  say, 
*  Is  dey  sho  'nuff  diamon's,  Brer  Wolf  ?  ' 

"  Brer  Wolf  make  out  he  ain't  hear  'im,  an* 
keep  on  a-grabblin'.  Bimeby  he  holler,  '  Whoo- 
ee  !  What  a  big  un  ! '  He  grabble  harder  dan 
ever,  an'  den  he  fetched  an'er  whoop,  ( Jiminy 
cracky  !  deze  de  biggest  diamon's  I  yever  is  laid 
eyes  on.' 

"  Brer  Fox  say,  '  Hoi'  up  one  un  urn,  Brer 
Wolf,  an'  lemme  see  it.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  'low,  <  I  ain't  got  time,  Brer  Fox; 
I  got  ter  put  in  my  work  'fo'  any  er  de  yuther 
creeturs  come  up  an'  claim  der  sheer.  You  ain't 
he'pin'  me  none,  Brer  Fox,  but  I  don't  keer  'bout 
dat.  You  wuz  de  'casion  er  my  findin'  um ;  ef 
I  had  n't  'a'  been  prankin'  wid  you,  an'  playin' 
like  I  wanter  ketch  you,  I  'd  'a'  never  foun'  dis 
diamon'  mine  in  de  roun'  worl'.  An'  you  won't 
lose  nothin'  by  it,  needer.'  All  de  time  he  wuz 
talkin',  Brer  Wolf  wuz  a-grabblin'  an'  a-gruntin'. 

"  Brer  Fox  say,  *  Mus'  I  come  down  an'  he'p 
you,  Brer  Wolf  ?  ' 

"  Brer  Wolf  'low,  '  Come  er  stay,  des  ez  you 
choosen,  Brer  Fox.  You  ain't  gwine  ter  lose 
nothin'.' 


246  PLANTATION  PAGEANTS. 

"  All  dat  soun'  so  nice  dat  Brer  Fox  start 
down.  He  come  down  de  tree  a  little  way,  an* 
den  stop ;  but  Brer  Wolf  ain't  payin'  no  'ten- 
tion.  He  des  keep  on  a-gruntin'  an  a-grabblin'. 
Bimeby  Brer  Fox  made  a  long  jump  ter  git  ez 
fur  'way  fum  Brer  Wolf  ez  he  kin  ;  but  time  be 
lit,  Brer  Wolf  bad  'im.  Dey  wuz  a  kinder  scuf- 
fle, but,  bless  yo'  soul !  Brer  Fox  time  done  come. 

<e  Atter  while,  when  Brer  Wolf  wuz  layin' 
sunnin'  hisse'f  an'  feelin'  good,  ol'  Brer  Rabbit 
come  promenadin'  'long.  He  see  Brer  Wolf,  an' 
stop.  He  look  all  'roun',  an'  he  see  whar  de 
groun'  been  grabbled  up  ;  he  look  f  urder,  an'  he 
see  Brer  Fox  head  layin'  on  de  groun'  grinnin'. 
Den  he  'low :  — 

"  '  Heyo,  Brer  Wolf  !  You  must  'a'  f  oun'  an'er 
diamon'  mine.  Two  in  one  day  is  big  luck  — 
mighty  big  luck.  Brer  Fox  is  sorter  swunk  up, 
but  what  dey  is  lef  un  'im  look  mighty  happy.' 

"  Brer  Wolf  say,  '  Oh,  go  'way,  man !  I  feel 
too  good  ! '  " 

The  story  was  ended,  and  so  is  this  book. 
Aunt  Minervy  Ann's  time  was  up,  and  so  is  mine. 
Glancing  back  over  its  pages,  it  seems  to  be  but 


THE  DIAMOND  MINE.  247 

a  patchwork  of  memories  and  fancies,  a  con- 
fused dream  of  old  times.  Perhaps  some  young- 
ster, tiring  of  better  things,  may  take  it  up  and 
follow  it  to  this  point,  and  then  close  it  wonder- 
ing as  to  the  fate  of  Billy  Biscuit.  But  his  story 
would  make  another  book,  and  we  cannot  have 
two  books  in  one. 


SOUTHERN  BRANCH, 

'DIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 


,  CALI^r-  --  ^     ,// 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


- 


OlSCHARGFGfRL 
f£BO 


131996 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


